All you need is me
by WinterStorrm
Summary: It's not all bunting and witty banter behind the scenes at the Great British Bake Off when judges Arthur and Merlin have to work together again after their fling ended.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** All You Need Is Me  
><strong>Pairingscharacters:** Arthur/Merlin (Merlin/Others, various side pairings)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 40,000  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Angst, past minor character death, you may be overcome with the overwhelming urge to shout 'just talk to each other', and other: *past sexual abuse of a minor (from the age of 12), attempted abuse *  
><strong>Summary:<strong>_ It's not all bunting and witty banter behind the scenes at the Great British Bake Off when judges Arthur and Merlin have to work together again after their fling ended._

This was written for After Camlann Big bang 2014. There is _**lovely**_ art by **texasfandoodler** to accompany this on live journal (please see my profile page for links.)

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Arthur Pendragon baked his first cake—well, cupcakes with blue icing and multi-coloured hundreds and thousands if you want the full picture—with his third nanny, Julia, somewhere around the age of five. Julia was ace because she let Arthur lick the spoon afterwards and gave him all the cuddles he asked for. When Julia left to get married when Arthur was nine, Arthur cried himself to sleep. He hasn't cried since.

-o-

When Arthur turned sixteen he came up against his father.

"I don't want to do my A-Levels, Father and I don't want to work for Dragon Media." Arthur took a deep breath and met his father's narrowed gaze. "I want to be a chef."

Uther's mouth firmed to a thin line. "Arthur, you are a Pendragon. Pendragons do not work in the _service_ industry."

Arthur shook out his shoulders. He had expected a response along that vein and he was ready. "Father, I have no intention of _serving_ anybody. I plan to be the next Valiant Power. Arthur named Power because his show was huge, even if the man was a total dick, his show was produced by Dragon Media and had the merchandising alone had made Uther a seven figure return.

Uther watched Arthur impassively, wax work still, without as much as a blink. Eventually he sprang to life as though he'd been rebooted and instructed, "If this is the path you're set on, you will do your A-Levels and if you still feel the same in two years' time _then_ we'll talk." He steepled his fingers and leant forward. "I'll have a word with Geoffrey, see if there's a summer job for you at The Old Library."

The Old Library was a Michelin starred restaurant in Chelsea half-owned by Uther's old friend and Arthur's godfather, Geoffrey Monmouth. Arthur had eaten there with his father and Morgana more than once. Surprised at Uther's unexpected show of support Arthur said, "Thank you, Father, that would be wonderful."

Arthur left Uther's office fighting back a smile. That had gone far better then he'd anticipated. In fact, Uther had played right into his hands. Geoffrey had been right, _haggle with him_, he'd said, _let him negotiate you up to doing your A-Levels_. Arthur already had a weekend job lined up with Geoffrey, but Uther didn't have to know that Geoffrey was on his side already. Better to let Uther think it was all his idea.

Arthur's career plan started with his own restaurant by twenty-one and the end result would be his own television show by the time he was twenty-five, if not before. He had no doubts that he would make it and he had no intention of riding on his father's coattails to do so. He'd approached Geoffrey off his own back for advice and walked away with a job offer. He'd do the rest himself, too. Still, it didn't hurt to let Uther believe that he was the one in control for a while longer.

He returned to his bedroom, flopped back onto his bed with a satisfying bounce and called Morgana. "It went better than I expected," he told her, wishing she was there with him now and not on holiday in Italy with Morgause. "Do you think he's up to something?"

Morgana laughed. "Just wait until I tell him I'm planning a career in fashion."

::::

Merlin Emrys baked his first cake—a good honest Victoria sponge—at his Mum's side at the young age of four. He has a photograph of himself, colour faded with time, impish smile and flour smeared cheeks, proffering the cake to the camera. He has no recollection at all of what it tasted like, just a happy memory blurred by the passing of the years and held all the closer after the downward spiral his life had descended into the year he turned thirteen.

One month before Merlin's sixteenth birthday, his foster parents, a forty-something couple named Rachael and Dave Cooper, caught Merlin in bed with their eighteen year old son, Will. Well, to be perfectly truthful, 'in bed' wasn't quite right, but saying they'd caught him 'in the kitchen' with their son didn't really have the same meaning behind it. Dave punched Merlin, hard enough to send him sprawling onto the floor, Will screaming in the background for his dad to stop it, that it was his fault not Merlin's, but that didn't stop Dave's boot from connecting with Merlin's ribcage a couple of times before Rachael had managed to drag him away.

Merlin's first couple of months with the Coopers had been as difficult as all the other placements that he could remember since his mum had been taken away two years earlier, rendering Merlin a ward of court and a prisoner to the foster care system. In two years he'd been with seven different families, Dave and Rachael had been the eighth one and the longest to date, nearly a year. Merlin had been determined that there would be no excuse to move him on this time and he went all out to fit in with the family. He didn't want to move one more time and settle into another school; he wanted to pass his exams and do something with his life. Dave and Rachael been friendly and kind and had treated him like a person, not like a cash cow as some of his previous placements seemed to before they tired of him.

Then there was Will. Merlin had connected with Will from that first day and they'd become friends, but not so much that Merlin had confided in him the things that his first foster father had made him do before Merlin had found the courage to tell his social worker what was going on. Will found out anyway though, when he'd stolen Merlin's file from his step-mum's desk.

Within ten minutes of finding Will and Merlin together, Dave had been on the phone to Merlin's social worker demanding that Merlin be removed from their home immediately. Merlin had swiftly packed up as much of his life that he could fit into his fifty litre rucksack, his ribs still throbbing from the impact of Dave's boot and the blood on his split lip still congealing. He didn't want to leave, he was due to sit his GCSEs soon but he didn't want to hang around for his social worker to show his face and send Merlin fuck knows where. Again.

When Will saw Merlin's rucksack he'd grabbed his arm, eyes wild, and said, "Don't run away somewhere I'll never find you, Merlin. I love you, please, go somewhere you will be safe until we can fix this. I can't be without you."

Merlin had looked at Will and said, seeing now reason to play the game now that they'd been found out, "You'll be fine. _You_ get to stay here and carry on with your life. _I'm_ the bad guy who is being sent away."

The social worker arrived then and any inkling Merlin may had had about running had been taken out of his hands. Merlin allowed himself to be taken away to an emergency placement twenty miles away in Gloucester.

The new placement lasted four days until his new foster father's supposed friend, a thuggish looking brute by the name of Kanen, had tried to force himself on Merlin, but Merlin was stronger than he looked and although he'd been gifted a black eye for fighting back, Kanen looked worse, even with Merlin's still healing lip and bruised ribs.

All Merlin could see in his future was a series of foster homes until he turned eighteen and was cast out in the real world. Well, as far as he was concerned, the 'real world' couldn't be any worse than the life he was currently living. There was no chance he'd be able to sit his exams now anyway. So he'd left that night, jumping the train to London Paddington. Maybe running away wasn't the answer but at least he would be in control. He'd go where _he_ wanted and live his own life. Life was every man for himself in the end, right? Everyone always took what they wanted from him without thought for what _he_ wanted. Well fuck that. It was his life, he'd live it on his terms.

Merlin arrived in London with nothing to his name but a few clothes, some toiletries and £19.73 in change. He had to sleep rough but it could have been so much worse if it hadn't been a balmy June. Still, it was hell on earth sleeping with one eye open just in case the creep who'd offered him a tenner to blow him returned or the police tried to move him on. A couple of the old blokes he'd met at the park he'd been sleeping in had shown him where to go for free food and that had been enough to sustain him while he got to grips with his change in circumstances.

They were three nightmare weeks, but Merlin had learnt survival at the age of just twelve. He felt free for the first time since his mum was taken and that was a feeling he never wanted to lose hold of even if he was sleeping in a park, avoiding pimps and drug dealers and eating people's charity.

He spent his sixteenth birthday sat hugging his knees on the same bench he planned to sleep on, hoping that the clouds in the dusky sky didn't mean rain and was approached by a student who told him he was shooting his final year project about London's homeless teenagers. "I'm looking for subjects to interview for my film," the guy said, smiling at Merlin and lighting up the darkening skies. Merlin had never seen anyone that gorgeous close up before, all shiny hair and Latin good looks despite the proper English accent.

Gorgeous or not, Merlin told him to fuck off.

Mr. Gorgeous returned the following evening, bringing Merlin a steaming cup of Costa coffee that he placed on the end of the bench before retreating back to a respectable distance and regarding Merlin over the rim of his own cup. "I'm hoping you've had time to think it over," he said, earnest brown eyes fixed on Merlin as the tantalising scent of strong coffee weakened his resolve.

Merlin glared back at him. "Why would I want to help you? I don't know you. You're probably just looking for somewhere to stick your—"

"No! That's not it at all, I'm not even—" he protested. "Look. I should've introduced myself yesterday. I'm Lancelot DuLac. Lance. I'm not after anything other than a couple of interviews. I'm interested in how a person's life leads them to this place, you know, the story behind the person."

"How very noble," Merlin said, folding his arms in front of his chest. "In case you didn't hear me well enough yesterday, I'll say it again. FUCK OFF." As if _Lance_ just wanted to _talk_, Merlin wasn't stupid. _Everyone_ had an agenda.

Merlin had snatched up the coffee and stalked away, waiting out of sight until he was sure that Lance had left before returning back to his chosen spot and settling down for the night.

The following night he had planned to go somewhere else to sleep but that bench was relatively comfortable and it felt safer in the park than in a doorway or somewhere else and it wasn't much but it was familiar. Lance was unlikely to try again anyway. He'd've found some other sap to annoy by that point. Only, Lance had returned, again with coffee, saying nothing about the film he was making other than he was volunteering at a homeless hostel a couple of evenings a week whilst working on his project, and that there was a place there for Merlin, if he'd let him take him there.

Merlin had been wary and suspicious, but he could smell impending rain in the air and there was something about Lance that made him decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, which was unusual in itself because Merlin hadn't trusted anyone since his mum. Even so, he refused to get into Lance's car, he didn't trust his own judgement anymore and he had insisted they walk the two miles to the hostel.

Merlin didn't know why Lance had chosen to help _him_. He couldn't fathom it at all. Lance hadn't looked at him with anything other than friendly concern since that first encounter and either he was a very good actor, biding his time before striking or he really was just a nice bloke. Even when Merlin was settled into a tiny room at Avalon Hostel, still pretending he was eighteen and had not just turned sixteen, he couldn't shake the suspicion that Lance wanted something when he made time for Merlin and that he was just like everyone else underneath and out for what he could get.

So Merlin refused to engage with him, told him to leave him alone, that he didn't need a 'friend', but Lance had obviously seen something in Merlin that no one else could because he persevered and by the time he had taken his painfully earnest uni project—he had found other subjects and hadn't asked Merlin again—and exited Merlin's life two weeks after entering it. Merlin was cursing himself for letting his guard down, even if only a crack, because Lance was gone and he hated to admit that he actually missed him.

He missed his mum—it had been over six months since he'd last visited her and she was so far away now he was in London. He missed his old Uncle Gaius who'd been the closest Merlin had ever had to a father when Merlin had been growing up and who had died six weeks before they took his mum. _You can't look after her alone_, they'd said when they realised Hunith was ill, _you're only twelve, you're too young_, and they'd taken her to a home full of old people, but his mum wasn't old, she was only forty-one and it wasn't fair, it wasn't her fault that most days she couldn't remember Merlin or where she lived. It wasn't her fault she'd had the brain tumour and the surgery had saved her life but taken her most of her memory. When Gaius had been alive, they'd been fine, they'd coped, but when Gaius had died—Merlin had tried to look after his mum, but that had meant missing loads of school and the alarm had been raised and his life as he'd known it was lost forever.

Lance came back a couple of days later though, having volunteered at the hostel as a mentor, and gradually Merlin let him back in again, as much as Merlin let anyone in that was. Merlin liked Lance as there was something about him that was still innocent and untainted. Maybe it was just his relentless optimism. It was Lance who Merlin had first run his idea for a market stall selling cupcakes by, because baking was still his first love and even in his foster placements, it had been the one thing that the carers in each of his homes had appreciated no matter how much of a burden Merlin was to them the rest of the time. Merlin just had an affinity with baking that his mum used to call his magic touch.

He had been enjoying baking cakes and pastries for the other hostel residents and the kitchen staff were more than happy to let him. Lance encouraged him to go for it and to trial a market stall. He had helped him in those first few weeks, sometimes with his girlfriend, Sefa, in tow if she was in town. Lance had even bought all of the first ingredients despite Merlin's protests, claiming he was investing in him and Merlin had swallowed his pride and accepted.

Merlin's good luck couldn't last though, not when his true age came to light the day after his second successful Saturday at the market—because Merlin's inability to claim any benefits at his age without a fake national insurance number meant he hadn't put in a claim to cover his rent thus he hadn't paid any charges at the hostel. His keyworker started talking about calling social services and Merlin panicked and went into flight mode, packing his stuff and sneaking out via the kitchen.

Of course, Lance tracked him down back on the same bench he'd found him on and Merlin would forever wonder if he'd returned to that spot deliberately, _wanting_ to be found. Instead of marching Merlin back to the hostel Lance offered him his spare room, saying Merlin could pay him what rent he could afford from his stall's profits.

Merlin conceded—what other choice did he have if he didn't want to go back into care or spend weeks sleeping in a park?—on the condition that his bedroom locked from the inside. Lance looked hurt at the implication but hadn't argued.

A few weeks after he'd moved in with Lance, when his cake stall was doing really well and he'd bought a cheap second hand laptop to do his accounts and set up a website, he'd Googled Will and found out that he had jumped off a railway bridge in front of the 8.13 commuter train to Birmingham a week after Merlin had arrived in London. Lance picked up the pieces as Merlin locked himself in his room for two days, completely numb. Lance left food outside the door for him until eventually Merlin ventured out, telling Lance, "I don't want to talk about it," and Lance obeyed Merlin's wishes. He felt awful because Lance thought Merlin was grieving, but that hadn't been it at all and the truth was Merlin's secret to keep.

Lance took Merlin to visit his mum in the home back home in the Forest of Dean one rainy Thursday, a week after he'd found out about Will. Less than a month after that, she was dead and Merlin cried until there was nothing left. She had only been forty-six years old.

After that, he found solace in casual sex with as many people as possible and as much as possible. Lance never judged him, just told Merlin that if he wanted to talk, then he was there.

Merlin's life had taken him along a path that could have led him somewhere so much darker, and yeah, life had dealt him lemons or whatever but it had also sent him, Lance DuLac… a man in a million who had given him a place to call home and had become the only person Merlin trusted even slightly and had come to realise he would do anything for if he was able.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur twirled his biro between his fingers and glared down at a newspaper article about the casting of the show's new judge for the Bake Off's third series. "You've swapped Alice Valentine, television baking legend, for a twelve year-old nobody whose only achievement seems to be shagging a member of some boyband and baking a few cupcakes." Alright, so Alice had retired and not been fired, but to replace her with someone with so little experience just because he had a pretty face and cheekbones that the studio lighting would love was a huge mistake.

"Arthur—" Leon began, a warning note in his voice.

"Well, it's hardly a ringing endorsement is it?" Arthur interrupted, putting his pen down and folding his arms. "The kid should be a contestant, not a judge. What are you all _thinking_?" Arthur had no idea why he was so annoyed about the whole thing. Maybe it was the bad day he had already been having or, okay, yes, the fact that he hadn't been consulted at any stage.

The photograph of his new co-judge that stared up at him from the front of the Daily Mirror was one of the Mirror's favourite kinds, a couple caught leaving a club or a restaurant, holding hands, and in this one, _he_ was holding hands with his bisexual boyband boyfriend, the teen heart-throb pretty boy that was Mordred Sage. Mordred was staring with besotted moon-eyes across at the boy whose hand he held. Arthur pushed the paper away and folded his arms, ready to fight his corner if he needed to.

He swept his glare around the table only to realise that everyone was looking behind him.

"Actually, as well as baking a few cupcakes, I also won Small Business of the Year last year, Britain's Best Bakery _twice_—once when I was operating off a market stall—my YouTube Channel has over fifteen million subscribers and my first book was number one on the best seller list for several months. Not all of us have rich daddies to open doors for us. _Some_ of us have to work hard."

Now was the moment Arthur regretted sitting with his back to the door. The same door that was propped open to let the air flow through the room because it was bloody _scorchio_ outside and Camelot Productions offices' air con had died a sorry death that very morning. Fuck.

"Now look here, I—" Arthur began, turning to address the newcomer, his words freezing in his throat as he met a very blue and very cold pair of eyes set beneath an unruly mop of inky hair that belonged to Merlin Emrys.

Nimueh had told him when they'd both been the first to arrive to the meeting, totally matter of fact, 'Merlin's stunning in person, Arthur,' but he hadn't really been listening and now he wished he had, wished he was more prepared for the impact those eyes would have when they were directed upon him. Bloody hell, it was no wonder he had Mordred Sage falling his feet, and Sage was _that_ guy, the member of the band everyone wanted to fuck and could have his pick of half the globe with a click of his fingers. Jesus. Arthur blinked as if that would make Merlin disappear but no, he was still there and still glaring at Arthur.

Merlin stepped further out of the doorway and disconnected his gaze from Arthur's to scan the room and smile warmly at Lance, Nimueh, Mithian and Leon. He took the seat beside Lance and the two of them shared a look that spoke of familiarity and Arthur's ire deepened. The kid was accusing _him_ of some kind of nepotism but there he was, all cosy with the boss. The part of Arthur that knew very well that Lance was totally straight didn't stop his traitorous brain telling him that Merlin was probably fucking Lance was well. Luckily, his mind's betrayal settled for visualising that scenario rather than announcing the theory to the room.

Was it his imagination or did the temperature just go up a couple of notches? Arthur wriggled uncomfortably in his chair and prayed that his power of speech would return soon.

Merlin turned back to Arthur, smile falling from his face again as he said, icily, "And for the record, I'm twenty-one, not twelve."

"Okaaay," Leon said with a small cough, hastily shuffling some papers. "God knows when Gwaine will grace us with his presence. Let's get started."

Everyone murmured their agreement and to Arthur's relief, the meeting began.

Arthur and Merlin's glaring competition lasted nine minutes and thirty-three seconds and was only brought to an end by Gwaine's noisy arrival and his question, "What did I miss?"

::::

Lance was no gossip, and calling your fiancé and saying, to update her didn't count. "They fancy one another like mad. I should have seen that coming," he said in exasperation on the evening of Arthur and Merlin's first meeting. Sefa was in France filming a TV mini-series for Camelot's drama division. "What made me think this was a good idea?"

Sefa's laugh was a gentle tinkle from across the English Channel. "Merlin's irresistible to any man with a gay bone in his body, you know that. It's his vulnerable bad boy thing," she said fondly. "What makes you think Arthur would be any different?"

_Vulnerable bad boy thing_, what did that even _mean_? Merlin was…well, he was Lance's best friend, not a character in a bad teenage romance novel. Lance sighed and collapsed down onto the sofa, safe in the knowledge that Merlin was upstairs with Mordred and wouldn't overhear him. "I just hope nothing comes of it. Arthur's not the fling type."

At the other end of the phone, Sefa could be heard running a bath and Lance felt a stab of regret that it would be several weeks before they were under the same sky again. "How do you know that? You and Arthur aren't that close."

"I just know," Lance said, remembering the first time he'd met Arthur well over two years ago when he'd been looking for two judges to front the show. Arthur had been fresh out of a long term relationship, an engagement with a girl his father had introduced him to named Elena. Lance had heard all about it in the press before he'd approached Arthur's agent about the Bake Off. According to all sources, both Arthur and Elena had had mutual cold feet and were remaining friends, much to the disgust of Arthur's father, the austere Uther Pendragon—a man who was now sort of Lance's boss in that he owned Dragon Media of which Camelot Productions was part. That hadn't been why Lance had wanted Arthur for the show though, and he had a contract that meant he was in control of casting decisions anyway. Lance had met Elena a couple of times since then, on social occasions she'd attended with Arthur as a friend, and had his ear talked off about what a _darling_ Arthur was and how she wished he'd find someone he could love and not just someone he felt obliged to marry and that had told him more than enough.

"Well, you and your gut feelings are never wrong," Sefa conceded. "Remember when you had one about Mum and Gilli and I was all like, he's far too young for her and you just gave me your 'you'll see' look and now they've been married for five years!"

"I did not give you a 'you'll see' look," Lance protested. He might have done, he probably had a multitude of facial expressions that he himself wasn't privy to.

"What about Merlin, then? As soon as you met him you couldn't rest until you'd got him off the streets, then you were moving him in to the flat. When I said you should be careful as you didn't know anything about him, you said you knew he was troubled but that all he needed was someone to give him a chance. I asked you why and you said, _why not_. I was sceptical, but you were right. You've been good for one another."

"It must be his vulnerable bad boy thing," Lance teased and changed the subject. He hoped he was wrong on this occasion. Arthur and Merlin getting together could not end well.

-o-

It was a few weeks later by the time Arthur actually fell into Merlin's web. Lance felt disloyal even thinking of it in those terms because apart from Sefa, Merlin was the person Lance loved most in the world. That love didn't make Lance blind though, and although it had probably been inevitable from the moment they had laid eyes on one another, he knew it was just as inevitable that it would end in tears and that those tears would not be Merlin's.

Since Lance had first met Merlin when he was just sixteen, Merlin had been a heartbreaker. In five years there was a trail of broken hearts that led to Merlin's door. From one night stands that wanted more than Merlin was willing to give in the early years to those Merlin had started to keep around for longer out of convenience, Merlin was an unstoppable force. So really, Lance should have predicted that he would want Arthur too.

"I thought you were still with Mordred," Lance said when they arrived back from filming the show on the Sunday night after dropping Mithian at her place round the corner. Merlin hadn't said anything about Arthur but Lance knew him too well and Merlin didn't bother to deny it.

"Mordred's on tour," he said, pulling cups out of the kitchen cupboard and holding one up to Lance in silent question.

Lance nodded that yes he would love a cup of tea. "Tell me you ended it with him before you slept with Arthur."

"I'd hate to lie to you, Lance," Merlin said, turning his back to him as he filled the kettle. "Mordred's back in London for a couple of days this week, I'll sort it then."

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Lance said, rubbing his temple. "I _like_ Arthur you know. He's a good bloke underneath all the arrogant bravado."

Merlin turned and leant back against the kitchen counter as the kettle began to boil. "Yeah, I know he is, he's a keeper alright," he said, expression serious. Lance felt a stab of hope that was immediately quashed when Merlin continued, "I just won't be the one keeping him, obviously."

"You say that as though it would be a bad thing. Don't you want to find your—"

"If you say _soulmate_, you can make your own tea."

Lance held up his hands. "The word didn't even enter my head."

Merlin snorted. "It's a good thing you're not considering a career in politics, you're a terrible liar." He rubbed his nose and yawned. "It's just sex with Arthur, same as everyone else."

Lance sighed, decided he was imagining the way Merlin wouldn't quite meet his eyes, and went rummaging in the cupboard for his emergency stash of chocolate bourbons. When he'd shoved one into his mouth whole and swallowed it down he said with a deliberate change of subject, "So, Homeland or Breaking Bad tonight?"

-o-

When Lance arrived home after the series three wrap party he found Merlin sitting cross-legged on the sofa watching Harry Potter with glassy eyes. "What happened to you?" Lance asked, kicking off his shoes and taking the arm chair. He felt pleasantly tipsy. It had been a good evening even if Merlin had vanished halfway through.

"I finished things with Arthur," Merlin said without taking his eyes off Draco Malfoy's attempts at fixing the vanishing cabinet. "I didn't much feel like sticking around after that."

"No," Lance said, his heart sinking, he'd really hoped that this time things might be different. "I don't suppose you did." He didn't bother asking how Arthur had taken it, he had a pretty good idea how that would have gone. It was obvious to anyone who cared to look that Arthur was besotted with Merlin, even if he'd be unlikely to admit that out loud.

They remained there together until the end of the film, watching silently as Dumbledore plummeted to his death at the end of Snape's wand. When the credits rolled and Merlin got up to go to bed, Lance texted Sefa, feeling unusually lonely all of a sudden. _I miss you_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summer 2014**

"It's so sad that someone who looks so good is so annoying in person," Nimueh said, considering the photograph on page nine of a well-thumbed copy of Cosmopolitan with a tilt of her head.

Everyone except Gwaine laughed, a ripple turning into a wave as Gwaine's pout grew bigger. "Hey!" he protested, snatching back the magazine and cradling it protectively against his chest like it was his first born.

"I'm sure your idiot arse is setting Tumblr on fire by now. All your fangirls will be going wild." Mithian appeared in the kitchen doorway carrying another copy of Cosmo. Gwaine had bought six copies so there were plenty to go around. "Why didn't you tell anyone you were doing it?"

Merlin shuddered at the mention of Tumblr. He'd made the innocent mistake of Googling himself sometime during his first series of Bake Off last year and had regretted it; nobody needed to see pictures of their own head badly pasted onto someone else's naked body, and worse, depicted doing the nasty with Harry Styles or, no joke, Boris Johnson. There were some seriously scary people out there and Merlin hoped he never had the dubious pleasure of meeting them. Now when he went online he was extremely wary, but as he still had his YouTube channel and a Twitter account he couldn't avoid the crazy entirely.

"Why do you think? I didn't need the piss ripped out of me before I did it as well as after," Gwaine huffed as Myror made a grab for the magazine and pretended to consider Gwaine's backside before cracking up again. Gwaine crossed his arms in front of his chest even as he fought back a smile.

"Still can't handle that Merlin's got more fans than you even though he's only been on the show for a year, Gwaine?" said Leon, his face the picture of innocence. "Posing naked to woo them all to Team Gwaine is a canny move, my friend."

Gwaine shrugged, shooting Merlin an amused glance. "I thought so." He winked at Merlin who rolled his eyes and sent Gwaine silent thanks for not bringing in his usual argument about Merlin dating models and popstars which—as Gwaine usually loved to tease Merlin about—was the reason for his boosted Twitter followers and the number of paps that liked to hang around outside the flat he shared with Lance. Merlin knew he was right.

Merlin thought that the photo of Gwaine posing starkers in front of a window in the hotel they were using for the show that year was great publicity. If he didn't know Gwaine as well as he did, Merlin might be viewing it with a different pair of eyes than he was now. As it was, he _did_know Gwaine all too well and had to agree with Mith, Gwaine was an idiot—albeit an idiot who was difficult to dislike—with a very nice backside indeed.

"If I was a girl, I'd shag you, mate," Myror piped up and everyone groaned. Myror grinned and knocked back the dregs of his beer. He switched the empty bottle for a full one from the coffee table and said, "Are we gonna do this winner sweepstake or what?"

"Pell's got the tub," Lance said and Pell held up a plastic lunchbox and gave it a tantalising shake. "There's only twelve of us, with Arthur stuck at some family thing—"

"I've got his stake here, I've been instructed to pick for him." Gwaine dug in his pocket and pulled out two fivers. "Here's mine as well."

Merlin watched with detached amusement as everyone picked their contestant out of the tub Pell passed around, not really listening to the specific grumblings around who had pulled what name. The party was in his and Lance's flat, a converted warehouse that Lance had bought with an inheritance from his grandfather, so Merlin couldn't really escape even if he'd wanted to, which he didn't, as thankfully Arthur wasn't in attendance. He had been dreading what would probably have been an awkward encounter of his own foolish making.

Merlin had ten weeks in close proximity with Arthur ahead of him and he wasn't looking forward to it in the least. He really should have thought it through—and not let his dick do the thinking—before he'd let anything happen with Arthur last year because now it was all over and they still had to work together.

"Your turn, Merlin," Pell said, waving the plastic tub in front of Merlin and snapping Merlin out of his thoughts of tolerable blonds. "Last one."

Merlin picked the slip of paper from the tub and read, "Cenred Cox."

"That's him, the one with the hair," Gwaine said, putting down his beer bottle and manically flapping his hands.

"Gwaine, is your hair going to get upstaged?" Mithian teased, and the smile fell off Gwaine's face. Mithian laughed. "Oh my God, you didn't think of that did you? Brilliant!"

"There there, Gwaine, I'm sure his hair has nothing on yours," Merlin consoled, trying not to laugh but failing miserably. Gwaine's first love was his hair. "Don't worry, now that I've got him in the sweepstake it's inevitable that he'll put salt in his Showstopper and be sent home the first week. I never win anything."

Sefa held up a copy of Cosmo and said, "And I'm sure his arse can't compare with the perfection of your pert globes."

Merlin was nearly deafened by everyone's laughter. He settled back against the sofa again and listened to the discussion return to the popular topic of Gwaine's backside. He could almost feel happy in the moment, if he didn't think about the front page of that morning's Sun and the photo of his latest fling, the model Percival Blake, leaving a nightclub in New York with a bloke that looked like a member of the Chippendales. The article was inset with another photo of Merlin and Percival embracing beneath a headline that read, 'Percival tastes another cupcake'. Percival was free to do what he wanted but the article was an annoyance, like a wasp buzzing around a picnic. It was just the timing that was off because the new series would be airing next week and the media attention should be on that and not Merlin's sex life.

He closed his eyes. What he really wanted to do now was burrow himself in his bed and sleep for a week and hope that he didn't get any unwelcome visitors in his dreams.

Lance elbowed him in the arm and leant in to whisper, "You okay?"

Merlin peered through half-closed lids at him and offered a half smile. "I will be."

"I know you will."

::::

"Really, Arthur, we didn't have to do this tonight. It's not my birthday until Monday," Uther said, watching as the waiter topped up both of their glasses with merlot before discreetly melting away. "Naturally it's always a pleasure when you make time for me."

Uther fixed Arthur with his steel blue eyes, the wounded father, as though he largely hadn't left Arthur to be brought up by the staff for more than half of his life and wasn't out of the country at least eight months a year. "We start filming this weekend so I wouldn't be much company by Monday."

"Ah, yes," Uther said, reaching for his glass. "The fourth series commences."

Dragon Media, Uther's kingdom, extended to Camelot Productions, although it was a very small cog in the machine. The Bake Off had made him even wealthier than he already was and even that profit had been small change to him. "Hotly anticipated," Arthur said proudly. He didn't mention that most of the crew were at a get together at Lance and Merlin's that night and it was his desire to be as far from there as possible that had prompted tonight's invitation to his father in the first place and not a burning desire to wish his father a happy birthday.

"Indeed," Uther inclined his head. "I have to admit I was wrong about that Merlin boy, he's been quite the hit with the ratings."

Arthur fought back a scowl. Even his bloody father wanted to talk about Merlin and he hadn't even _wanted_ him as Alice's replacement last year, but the terms of Lance's contract gave him the final say. "Yes, he's a talented baker," Arthur said, feeling obliged to make comment even if it did stick in his throat. The last thing he wanted was for his father to think something was amiss. Uther would view Arthur's doomed relationship with Merlin as a failure—in more ways than one—and Arthur would prefer he never found out about it.

"He'll outshine you if you're not careful." It was a warning. _Pick up your game, son… second place is first loser_.

Arthur stared at his father for a long painful moment and eventually said, "So, did you see much of Morgana when you were in New York?"

Uther narrowed his gaze but evidently decided not to pursue the topic. "We had lunch a couple of times," he replied, smiling tightly. He sighed then, "I don't think that girl is ever going to forgive me."

"You lied to her from birth so I'd say you're lucky she's talking to you at all." Arthur was always going to be in Morgana's corner. He'd been in the dark about her true parentage, too and would have liked to have known she was his sister from the start.

After that, the evening went from bad to worse; yet it was infinitesimally preferable to being at the crew party, forcing a smile on his face and pretending that he hadn't spent several weeks during the filming of last year's show falling in love with his co-judge… and that he hadn't had that love thrown back in his face like it was nothing.

::::

"Look how _tight_ his trousers are," Merlin whispered to Mithian as they watched the first contestant walk into the hotel bar where the producers, Lance and Nimueh, were waiting to greet them in a cordoned off VIP area. Merlin and Mithian were secreted up on the Minstrels' balcony like naughty school children, trying not to draw attention to themselves as they spied—no, _observed_, Merlin corrected—on the thirteen hopefuls as they arrived. "I'm surprised he can even walk. I'd love it if he bent over and they ripped—"

"I just bet you would." Mithian giggled and immediately stifled herself. "That's Cenred Cox, if the hair hadn't already given him away."

Merlin considered Cenred as he shook hands with Lance. "I can see why he's got Gwaine worried. That hair is magnificent."

"Yeah and he'll never love anyone as much as he loves himself." Mithian looked sideways at Merlin and they both burst out laughing. Below them, Cenred turned to look up at the balcony and catching his eye, Merlin nodded at him, blushing furiously when he received a wink in return. "Oooh, Merlin, he likes you."

"Everyone likes me, I'm irresistible," Merlin countered, elbowing Mithian. "More followers on Twitter than Gwaine, remember?" Something that Merlin couldn't care less about other than its ability to wind up Gwaine. Merlin had more followers than Arthur too, but in that case, teasing was no longer an option. It wasn't as though he ever tweeted anything interesting, but his agent liked him to have it and given the popularity of Merlin's YouTube channel, Merlin had concurred. He shook the memory of how he used to tease Arthur and looked back down at Cenred now as he ordered a drink and leant back against the bar on his elbows, taking in the other hotel guests as they went about their evening before turning his attention back to the door to await the next arrivals, much like the two spies above.

The next person through the door was George Steele, a stiff looking twenty-something with an expression like he was sucking lemons. "Bus driver," Mithian said after she'd furnished Merlin with his name. "He looks like he'd only do it in missionary… with his socks on."

Merlin bit his lip to stifle the snort that threatened to erupt. "Mith, you know I don't want to know anything about the contestants until after the first show." He was not enjoying the vision that had popped into his head of George in the buff with just a pair of argyle socks either.

"You're no fun. But seeing as I've spilled the beans about George there, I think it's only fair I tell you the same about the others." Before Merlin could protest she continued, "Such as Cenred owns a chain of pharmacies in the South East. So he's most likely loaded, which would explain the cocky swagger."

Merlin sighed and gave in as the third person walked in and over to the cordon, a serious looking fifty-something man with a bald head. "Let me guess, um, teacher?"

Mithian snorted. "Close. That's Alator Catha, he's an Anglican vicar." She nodded down at the next person to enter. "_That's_ the obligatory teacher, Gwen Smith."

"I don't have anything sarcastic to say about her," Merlin said with honesty as he watched the pretty twenty-something with the wild curls shake hands with Nimueh and Lance before Cenred sidled over and made his presence known. "Oh dear, I think Cenred likes her more than me. I'm heartbroken."

After Gwen, there was a tall auburn haired scientist, Edwin Green, with intense blue eyes and a smile that was either nervous or calculating, Merlin couldn't decide. Then followed a pretty blonde with a lot of cleavage on show that Mithian claimed was a police officer called Isolde Fairweather. Merlin had an inappropriate vision of her suffering a wardrobe malfunction during filming and hoped she covered up whilst baking else he'd be worrying about it actually happening the whole time.

Arthur Pendragon was next through the door and Merlin immediately lost his train of thought. Merlin hadn't seen in in the flesh since the wrap party last year, Arthur somehow managing to avoid attending the pre-production meetings for this series if Merlin had been present. Arthur had been in the public eye his whole life and it showed in the way he carried himself. As the son of media billionaire Uther Pendragon and a woman who had been the queen of breakfast television in the eighties, Ygraine DuBois, he was heir to billions. Ygraine had come to a tragic end when Arthur was born and several years later and in the mid-noughties it had come to light that Arthur's supposed younger cousin, Morgana, was in fact Uther's daughter by his brother's wife. The media had dined out on that one for weeks. Uther had had plans for Arthur to follow him into his media empire but all those years of leaving his only son in the care of his baking mad nanny had given Arthur other ideas. Where Merlin was self-taught and had worked his way up from a market stall at the weekends to owning his small chain of artisan bakeries, Arthur had started from a position of privilege.

Arthur looked up then and caught Merlin's eye, narrowing his gaze before turning to Mithian and nodding politely before looking away again and scanning the room. Merlin frowned, biting his lip as he watched Arthur square his shoulders when he spotted the expanding group of Bake Off hopefuls near the bar before walking confidently over to join them. Merlin tracked him, taking in every detail. Arthur was wearing tight fitting jeans that hugged his backside lovingly, a simple form fitted dark grey jumper and white Chucks. He was one of those people though, the kind that could wear a black sack and still look that good.

Merlin really wished he could not notice how good Arthur looked but that had been game over the first time they'd been in a room together, at that first production meeting last year when they had come to blows. The filming of those first couple of shows had been tense especially as they'd been forced to spend time alone together whilst the Technical Challenge was underway. After that things had been easier. At least for a while, but Merlin refused to think about that now. The path was too dangerous.

"Arthur's looking good," Mithian said, watching Merlin with suspicious eyes. She'd spent the best part of the last series ragging Merlin about how he and Arthur were perfect for one another and Merlin wouldn't be surprised if she'd done the same to Arthur. She didn't know about what had happened. Merlin didn't respond so she turned her attention to the bar area where Lance was waving at them. "Dammit, I think we'd better get down there."

Merlin waved back and said, "Yes, our master doth call."

By the time they made it down to the bar, the remaining contestants had arrived but Mithian immediately went to join Lance and Nimueh at the bar so Merlin had no idea about any of them and he couldn't quite muster the interest to care all that much. He'd find out in due course.

"Look at them all, like lambs to the slaughter." Gwaine appeared beside Merlin and clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder causing him to jump several inches from the floor.

"Give me a coronary, why don't you?" Merlin grumbled wriggling out of Gwaine's grasp and glaring at him for two seconds before giving in and returning his smile. Something about Gwaine was contagious.

Gwaine winked and said, "Come on, let's get a drink." Merlin rolled his eyes and followed him to the bar, determined to start as he meant to go on with the contestants; friendly yet professional. It might prove difficult with them all staying under the one roof for two nights a week for the first time because they'd moved location for this series, but he was going to do his best. During the last series he'd become quite friendly with one of the contestants despite his best efforts to remain aloof. Freya had come in third in the end and now she worked with him. They were in the process of setting up a café together, something separate from Merlin's other shops, intended to be something a little different from the identikit coffee shops that were now on every street corner.

Gwaine ordered himself a pint and Merlin's usual orange juice and turned to scan the room, landing finally on Cenred. "Fifty quid says I can bag Cenred before we leave on Sunday."

Merlin shot Cenred a glance from the corner of his eye and snorted. "Are you serious?" A glance at Gwaine's expression gave Merlin his answer so he said, in the mood for humouring his friend. "Alright, if you are, then you're on. I think you'll lose interest in the time it takes him to peel off those leather trousers."

Gwaine immediately looked smug. "Prepare to lose," he said, holding out his hand for Merlin to shake. "I'll even take PayPal."

Merlin grinned, grateful to Gwaine for lightening his mood with his games, and shook his hand. "You won't need to."

::::

When Merlin woke up the following morning, Saturday, there were six missed calls and four text messages from Percival on his phone.

_pls can we talk?_  
>dont ignore me merllin<br>its not wat it lukslikeimsory  
>i love u<p>

Merlin threw the phone onto the bed in a huff. "You love me so much that you fucked some stripper the first chance you got, you wanker," he said out loud to the room.

Immediately he felt guilty. He swung his legs out of bed and dropped his head into his hands. What the hell was he thinking? He didn't deserve any sort of fidelity from Percival, didn't ask for it and certainly didn't _want_ it. It was just sex between them, on Merlin's side at least. They'd met on a chat show a few months ago and ended up back at Percival's room at Claridges and it had been easier to keep on hooking up with him than to go out looking for it; it was always easier that way for a while.

Still, Merlin should never have let it go on for as long as it had, over four months now. Merlin had not been faithful to Percival, there had been a couple of others when the opportunity had presented. He had not made him any promises and Percival had not seemed to mind before. However, just before he'd left the country to work on his latest campaign a fortnight ago, Percival had asked Merlin to move in with him and Merlin had not seen that coming, _at all_.

"Damn," Merlin grumbled and headed for the shower. He had twenty-five minutes to make himself presentable and into hair and make-up down at the set, he couldn't be lying here thinking about his fucked up life.

He vowed not to give Percival another thought for the rest of the day.

::::

"…so then _she_ said she'd never heard of him and honestly, Arthur, you should've seen his face!" Helen finally paused for breath, stepping back and admiring Arthur's hair in the mirror with a satisfied tilt of her head. Arthur actually thought his hair looked exactly the same as it had when he'd walked into hair and make-up twenty minutes earlier but chose not to voice those thoughts out loud. It wouldn't do to offend Helen; she was one hell of a feisty woman.

"Thanks, Hel," he said and was poised to get up out of the chair when he saw Merlin walk into the reflection behind him, hair still wet from the shower, cheeks flushed pink. Arthur narrowed his gaze and studied his co-judge for a few moments until Merlin caught his eye in the mirror and stilled his approach towards Helen.

Arthur let Merlin hold his eyes for a moment before looking away. They hadn't seen one another since the end of the last series, around nine months before. At dinner last night, they had been seated at the opposite ends of the table by Arthur's design and he had retired to bed at the earliest opportunity and lain awake for half of the night before finally succumbing in the early hours. As a result, he now felt the weight of the day bearing down on him.

"Merlin, take a seat, I'll be with you in a moment," Helen said, sorting through a tray of hair product with a grimace.

A shadow fell over Arthur. "Hello, Arthur, how have you been?" Merlin hadn't taken his seat and was instead in Arthur's space, making Arthur's hands twitch. "You're looking well."

Arthur looked up at Merlin and smiled politely. No way was he letting Merlin see how much he still affected him. "Thank you, Merlin, and yes, I've been doing great thank you." He intended to get to his feet and leave Merlin in Helen's hands but the devil in him wouldn't allow it. "I can't say the same for you though, but I suppose it's been a rough week for you, what with your model fucktoy publicly cuckolding you?" Well, so much for hiding his feelings from Merlin. _Well done, Arthur_.

Merlin's smile, forced though Arthur knew it was, fell from his face and he took a step back. "That's none of your business," he said, searching Arthur's face for a moment before turning away.

Arthur immediately felt like a wanker. He watched Merlin walk away, holding himself stiffly until he sat in Helen's chair with his back to Arthur. Arthur frowned. He hoped more than anything that he and Merlin would be able to put aside their differences in front of the camera, although, who was it who had the problem? It was Arthur that had had his heart crushed and not vice versa, Merlin had just made use of Arthur to warm his bed for a few weeks, _he_ was unaffected.

He shook his head and left the hair and make-up tent and headed towards the garden chairs that were set up outside for the crew by the catering tent, which because the hotel was providing all meals, was nothing more than a gazebo with a table beneath that contained an urn of coffee, one of hot water, some tea bags, sugar and those horrible tiny things of long life milk. As nothing was going to happen for another twenty minutes at least, Arthur helped himself to a cup of tea and sat down, rubbing the back of his neck wearily. His mind took him back to that first production meeting for series three and the first time he had met Merlin just over a year ago.

Merlin had been very polite and professional towards Arthur after their initial antagonism and no one watching the show in those first few weeks would have believed that Merlin hated his guts. Their digs in each other's direction had been a very good impersonation of teasing. For his part, Arthur had come to respect Merlin's professionalism, his passion for baking and his obvious skill as a baker, not that he'd told Merlin that. He finally admitted to himself that perhaps and teeny part of his antagonism towards Merlin that first day due to his jealousy towards him; Merlin had made it to where he was through pure hard graft and he had been right, Arthur hadn't wanted any special treatment but he wasn't naïve, he _had_had help even if it wasn't quite as Merlin probably imagined. The Pendragon name opened doors that were closed to other people even if it had been Arthur knocking and not Uther. That didn't mean Arthur didn't work hard because he _did_, harder sometimes because he wanted to prove he was more than just his father's son.

By the time they filmed the third episode of the last series after Arthur and Merlin had been forced to spend a fair amount of time together in the previous weeks, Arthur had genuinely grown to like Merlin. Merlin loved eighties indie and alternative rock music—a far cry from the kind of music churned out by his then boyfriend's boyband, cried laughing at Miranda Hart and despite being a talented baker who could turn his hand to anything, was addicted to Tunnock's tea cakes. He was rarely seen without his signature skinny jeans and he had a tattoo on his wrist in his mother's memory… and one of an elaborate tree that wound its way up his side that Arthur sometimes caught a glimpse of when Merlin's t-shirt rode high. It had driven Arthur mad. He told himself he just wanted to see that tattoo in its entirety but the reality was he didn't even like tattoos and it was the canvas beneath that interested him.

Merlin _was_ incredibly easy on the eye, and Arthur had been trying desperately not to notice, like he hadn't already clocked Merlin's cheekbones when he'd been scowling down at that newspaper the day they first met. Merlin and his boyfriend were tabloid favourites and there had been no reports of a split. Merlin wasn't free and Arthur should not notice the pout of his lips, the curve of his neck or obsess over a couple of inches of skin above his waistband. He should not. He should pursue other avenues and it wasn't as though he'd have trouble finding someone. He could. He_could_.

He didn't.

He'd decided to apologise for his behaviour that first day. He'd been out of line even if it had taken him a while to admit it. Merlin wasn't going anywhere, the BBC viewers loved him—loved Merlin and Arthur _together_—and Merlin had already been signed for the next year. Arthur was stuck with him and making it right made sense. Merlin had accepted his apology and a weight Arthur hadn't realised he was carrying had lifted.

On the Saturday night of the fourth episode, a day that the heatwave had finally given way to rain and the parched ground had breathed a sigh of relief, Merlin had happened upon Arthur lying under a tree near the lake in the early evening when filming had finished for the day. Arthur had opened his eyes to find Merlin staring down at him with an unfathomable expression just as the gathering clouds gave up their bounty and the rain began to fall. Arthur had got as far as propping himself up on his elbows when Merlin had muttered, "Only a saint," dropped to straddle Arthur and kissed him.

Arthur had responded with all the pent up frustration Merlin had wrought in him. He'd wanted… he'd thought—

"Arthur, Leon has asked for you in the studio." Arthur's reminiscing was interrupted by the runner, Rowena.

"I'll be right there," Arthur said. He locked his memories back into the box inside his head marked 'enter at your peril' and went to find Leon.

::::

Merlin poked at the upside down cake on the plate in front of him with his fork and slid a sideways glance at Arthur who was munching a forkful with a thoughtful expression. The cake listed to one side and the raspberries that were supposed to adorn the top had obviously all stuck to the tin as there wasn't a whole one among them. Merlin hoped the cake tasted better than it looked. He forked some and before he could change his mind (not that that was really an option on the Bake Off), he tentatively took a bite and was pleasantly surprised. The texture was perfectly moist and it tasted as it should, of raspberry and vanilla.

He put the fork down and looked at the nervous baker who was watching him intently; George the bus driver. Merlin smiled reassuringly and silently cursed Mithian as an image of a naked George in his socks popped into his head, and said, "The cake looks as though it's been thrown together by a primary school kid in their first cookery class." He paused for dramatic effect. "_However_, it tastes beautiful with just the right amount of vanilla to counteract the bitterness of the raspberries. You've been very lucky."

George exhaled, his shoulders relaxing.

Arthur nodded and said, "I agree, and the texture is just right. You obviously need to work on greasing the cake tin a little better for your next bake."

Next to them, Gwaine and Mithian were sampling the cake. Merlin noticed that Gwaine had crumbs around his mouth from the previous bake and fought back a smirk. Gwaine was going to develop love handles again this year if he wasn't careful, the man loved his cake far more than he loved going to the gym and had had to hire a personal trainer after the last series finished shooting after gaining five pounds.

"Cut," Leon said and the crew moved to set up again at the next, and last, workbench. Edwin Green.

Merlin had always thought it was probably more nerve-wracking to go last than first but Edwin looked perfectly relaxed and composed as he got down from the stool he'd been seated on waiting his turn and shook out his shoulders. In front of him on a vintage cake stand was his pear, chocolate and hazelnut upside down cake. During the baking, Arthur, Gwaine, Mithian and Merlin had gone around each baker and asked questions about their chosen signature bake and Edwin's reasoning for choosing the flavours he had were sound, his enthusiasm was tempered and any sign of nerves were absent. The man was like a robot.

Whilst the camera moved into place, Merlin thought back to the previous evening. He and Gwaine had been introduced to the contestants by Lance and shortly afterwards they'd all convened to the restaurant. It was decorated in the original Regency style and their audience was a collection of uncomfortable looking portraits staring unblinkingly down at them reminding Merlin of Hogwarts in the Harry Potter films. Merlin had ended up sitting between Gwen and Cenred and unfortunately for him, directly opposite to Isolde Fairweather. Merlin spent most of dinner trying not to stare at her chest but it wasn't easy at all when her top was so revealing.

Luckily, Gwen was a dear and clearly dying with nerves over the following day and Cenred had a dry sense of humour that had Merlin laughing unexpectedly on more than one occasion and the ordeal had passed quickly.

Arthur had sat as far away from Merlin as had been possible given the set up and Merlin honestly couldn't blame him. It was what Merlin had intended after all and Arthur's coldness towards him earlier in make-up was just how Merlin had wanted things to be when he'd ended the 'thing' between them last year. Arthur was no different to any of the others he'd been with. Just like it had been with all who had gone before him, Merlin had been in it for the sex. In Arthur's case, it was incredibly mind-blowing sex, but that meant nothing. The whole affair should never have happened, just—Merlin almost believed it had been inevitable from the first words they'd exchanged. A craving that needed feeding and Arthur had fed it very well indeed. Merlin might even say too well.

"Right then," Leon boomed, bringing Merlin back to the present. "Everyone to their positions, please."

Merlin moved to stand between Arthur and Mithian around the end of Edwin's workbench and gave Edwin a quick glance and found him staring back at him intently with pale blue eyes. Merlin flashed him his most professional smile and looked away again, focussing on the pastel coloured bunting that was draped along the shelves at the end of the marquee. Something about the man gave him the creeps.

The cameras started rolling and Arthur began, "This certainly looks appealing."

Merlin murmured his agreement as he cut a slice of the cake and turned it upside down to check the bottom. Nothing wrong there, nice and gold around the edges. "Nice even colour," he said, pressing the base with his forefinger. "Perfectly springy." Oh God, that sounded like he was describing Arthur's bottom and he really really didn't need to be thinking about that. Ever again.

Shoving the thought of Arthur's arse to one side, he forked a piece of cake and popped it in his mouth and immediately his heart sank. He chewed silently for a couple of seconds to be certain. "The texture is good but there's no flavour in the sponge." He forked a bite of the roof of the cake and frowned. "I can taste what you were _trying_ to do but I'm afraid it's failed in intention. This is very bland."

"I disagree, there's plenty of favour in this," Arthur said with a shake of his head, but took another piece from the other side of the cake anyway and chewed slowly. "This bite has little flavour at all. It's completely uneven."

Edwin's eyes had narrowed as Arthur spoke, but his expression remained impassive. "Right," he said in monotone. "Thank you." He stood awkwardly and Merlin his usual twinge of sympathy he felt when it went wrong for the contestants.

"Don't be disheartened," Arthur consoled kindly. "Yours is by far one the most attractive looking cake."

"That's not much use to me if it tastes like cardboard, though, is it?" Edwin said with a tight smile.

"I've tasted cardboard," Gwaine interjected through a mouthful of Edwin's cake. "Trust me when I say that it tastes nothing like this cake." He winked at Edwin, playing to the camera like he always did and Edwin's cheeks pinked even though he didn't muster another smile.

When Leon called, "Cut," Merlin noticed Edwin's shoulders relax. Merlin looked away, relieved that a break was coming up. Was it really only twelve-thirty?

"Right," Leon said as the camera crew moved away. "Lunchtime everyone. The hotel has laid on sandwiches back in the lounge. All bakers to be back down here by one-thirty for the Technical Challenge please."

There was a collective sigh of joy from the assembled contestants as they scrambled down from their stools, removed their aprons and headed for the marquee exit and towards the hotel for their lunch. Merlin waited with Arthur and Mithian, because of course Gwaine was out of the room at the first mention of lunch regardless of the fact that Leon sometimes liked them to wait behind for a debrief.

All Leon said though was, "Good job this morning, guys. Now I suggest you all grab some lunch and be back here ten minutes earlier than the bakers."

Arthur mumbled something about seeing them later and vanished. Merlin watched him go with a heavy heart.

He wasn't sure he'd be able to eat anything else after at least thirteen mouthfuls of cake with the prospect of thirteen more to come later that afternoon upon the completion of the technical challenge. "I'll see you all back here after lunch," he said to Mithian, picturing his bed back at the hotel and the twenty minute cat nap he could wedge in there if he hurried.

Mithian nudged him with an elbow. "Don't even _think_ about sidling back to the hotel for a kip," she said, tugging him towards the door. "You're having a coffee and a sandwich, if I have to ram it down your throat."

"Always so eloquent, Mith," Merlin complained even as he followed her from the room, giving in easily. "It's a good thing I'm so fond of you." That was a truth at least. Mithian was always able to pull a smile from him and had crept her way into his affections easily when he'd started working on the show last year. She had welcomed him like an old friend, and they had continued their friendship over the hiatus between the shows.

Merlin checked his phone after lunch and there were two more texts from Percival. He scowled and turned the stupid thing off. He braced himself for an afternoon spent mostly in Arthur's company whilst the contestants concentrated on the Technical Challenge and the two of them had to stay out of the marquee until it was time to judge the offerings. After Arthur's behaviour that morning Merlin was dreading being alone with him.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

::::

The moment the door closed behind Rowena and Arthur was left alone in the 'judge's kitchen' with Merlin, he said, "I apologise for what I said this morning. You're right and it is none of my business." He'd been building up to the apology all morning. He just wanted it out of the way.

Merlin regarded him with an impassive expression for over a minute before he shrugged and said, "Apology accepted." He turned away and lay down on the pale green sofa near the open marquee doors, hands rising to pillow his head and closing his eyes. Arthur's attention was immediately drawn to the sliver of pale skin that was revealed as his shirt rode up showing Arthur the roots of the damned tree tattoo that had so tormented him last year. He knew now that it wound its way from Merlin's hip to his shoulder and that Merlin had got it when he'd opened his first shop. He swallowed and forced himself to look elsewhere, moving to sit at one of the wooden chairs at the table.

Outside the marquee the sun was shining and a light breeze was blowing through the trees. Summer was in full swing and it was glorious. Arthur itched to go out there but their instructions were to stay in the kitchen because at some point they'd need to film a piece to camera, the two of them a 'united front' to the public. It was a joke and the joke was on him.

"Who's your money on then?" Merlin asked, eyes still closed, long lashes dark against his pale cheeks. "I mean, I've got Cenred in the sweepstake, you know, the one with the hair that even Gwaine's eyeing jealously, and you have Isolde, right?"

"Yeah," Arthur said, though he honestly didn't know or care who he had. This kind of conversation he could handle. "She's doing okay so far."

"As long as she doesn't suffer a wardrobe malfunction I think she'll be here a while. I didn't know where to look last night during dinner, if you know what I mean, and I'm one-hundred percent gay," Merlin said and, despite himself, Arthur laughed. He'd had similar concerns but hadn't been confronted by the woman head on over dinner as Merlin had.

"So far, I like Gwen or Tristan," he said, thinking only of the samples he had just tasted.

"Hmmm, they're both promising. Cenred impressed me as well."

They fell into and awkward and loaded silence that Arthur broke after a couple of minutes with, "If they want me, I'll just be outside." His burning desire to escape beat his pride.

Merlin opened his eyes as Arthur stood, which froze Arthur to the spot. They looked at one another for far long than was polite until Merlin finally said, "Yeah, 'kay."

Arthur escaped and found solace in one of the wooden chairs by the tea tent.

He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew was Lance leaning over him with a huge grin on his face. "Wake up sleeping beauty," he teased, poking Arthur in the ribs. "It's time to do some actual _work_ now."

Arthur grumbled under his breath but got to his feet and followed Lance back to the kitchen to talk to the camera with Merlin about the recipe that was being used for the Technical Challenge and what the secret was to making the cake perfectly. Afterwards he sat silently beside Merlin back in the marquee as the production crew lined up all the completed cakes and contestant photographs for the two of them to judge blind. This was Arthur's favourite part of the show; judging the bakers' creations without any pre-conceived notions of who'd baked what.

It wasn't long before everything was set up and Merlin and Arthur could start sampling the cakes. The bakers lined up in front of them in a row and there was a lot of nervous foot tapping and fidgeting fingers.

Leon called action and Arthur and Merlin began to work their way through the cakes.

"I don't like it at all," Arthur said about the fourth cake, the first three having been reasonable attempts, pulling a face and putting down his fork. "It's completely lacking in flavour to the point of being very unpleasant."

Merlin was nodding. "It's dry as well. In fact there really isn't anything to commend it."

Arthur made a point of not looking at any of the line-up for this part as more often than not the look on their faces gave them away.

They moved on to the next, and the next, number six was rather nice indeed, number nine was divine—Arthur's favourite— and number twelve seemed to have forgotten to add sugar and was by far the worst of the selection causing both Arthur and Merlin to spit the cake back out again, Arthur requesting a drink of water to wash the taste away.

After a few minutes conferring with Merlin in low voices, Arthur indicated that they had made their decision. It was Mithian's role to lead Arthur and Merlin into the announcement. In thirteenth place, and last, with the sugarless cake was Edwin Green and the only indication that he was disappointed was in the firm line of his mouth as the announcement was made. Kara's cake came in twelfth place, being the dry bland number four and her red rimmed eyes gave her away, having been well aware she'd messed up. Third place went to Annis, second to Tristan and first to Gwen, who smiled modestly at her victory and graciously accepted the congratulations of the other bakers.

An exhausted looking Leon called the day to a close and there was a flurry of activity as everyone moved.

"Right," said Gwaine, giving his watch a cursory glance as soon as the cameras were off. "I do believe its beer o'clock."

They would all spend a second night at the hotel and return home tomorrow evening until the following Friday, two bakers lighter than they were this week as the first week was a double elimination.

A nice cold beer sounded like the perfect plan to Arthur, followed by a bite to eat and an early night. No, well, strike that, the perfect plan would be to retire to his room now and order room service but he wasn't going to give Merlin the satisfaction of avoiding him further. God but he hated this empty feeling that dogged him constantly these days. He felt as though he'd lost his drive and was lucky that he had great teams in situ at his three restaurants as the way he'd been acting they could so easily have slid under. He made a mental note to give all of his staff a decent bonus once this show was over and he could think again.

Merlin shifted uncomfortably beside him. "I'll meet you in the bar in half an hour, Gwaine," he said. "Get one in for me." He turned and headed outside and towards the hotel.

Arthur watched Merlin go, Mithian joining him at the door with a beaming smile. He turned back to Gwaine and forced a smile. "Come on then, it's my round."

Gwaine checked over his shoulder before leaning into Arthur's side. "You look like a man in need of perking up," he whispered into Arthur's ear, "I'm _very_ good at perking people up." His breath tickled Arthur's ear lobe and he couldn't help the resulting shudder.

Arthur pulled back and looked at Gwaine, trying to read if Gwaine really was hitting on him or if it was all just false bravado. He'd known the man for three years, they had a friendship that Arthur valued and they socialised together outside of work. Gwaine had never shown any kind of sexual interest in him before.

Gwaine rolled his eyes and leant back in. "Just in case that was too subtle for you, I'm offering to suck your brains out through your cock." Arthur gasped in surprise and the bluntness of it. "That should take your mind off things."

"Hmmm," Arthur said, furrowing his brow. "I imagine it would."

"Is that a yes?"

Arthur hesitated.


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin arrived back down at the bar to find Gwaine was nowhere to be seen. He sighed, ordered himself an orange juice and took a look around the bar for a familiar face. Leon and Lance were seated on the far side near the fireplace and Merlin headed over and sank onto the sofa next to Lance.

"Thank God today's over," Merlin said, took a long swig of his juice and wondered where Arthur was, half hoping he'd decide to stay in his room and save Merlin the torture of his presence. Just because their affair, such as it was, was a thing of the past, didn't mean that Merlin had suddenly become immune to Arthur. In fact, the craving remained unsatisfied. It had been bearable during the show's hiatus as he'd easily been able to avoid Arthur, making sure that he wasn't going to be present if he accepted an invite from Lance, Gwaine or Mith. Arthur had clearly been doing the same and Merlin didn't believe for one moment that he'd had a 'family thing' on the night of the pre-show party. He'd clearly been avoiding Merlin.

"Yes, all that sitting around must be terribly taxing," Lance teased fondly.

"Hey. All that judging is hard work."

"I think it went well today," Leon said, sounding relieved. "A couple of unexpected results but that's what keeps us on our toes."

"Hmm." Merlin's attention was distracted by Isolde, Gwen and Kara appearing in the doorway. All three of them had changed out of the day their clothes and were dressed for an evening out. "It looks as though the pretty people are sticking together."

Lance and Leon both turned to see what Merlin was referring to and as they did so Edwin appeared between them, a few words were said and the four of them disappeared back into the reception. "Yes," Lance said, rolling his eyes at Merlin. "Edwin Green is _very_ pretty."

"He wasn't even there when I said that," Merlin huffed but grinned back anyway. There was something about Edwin that made him feel uncomfortable even if he was easy on the eye. "I was thinking more of the girls."

"Gwen is the prettiest of them all," Lance said absently, staring at the fireplace with a frown.

"Gwen did well today," Merlin said, choosing not to tease Lance about his statement regarding Gwen because Merlin really was rather fond of Lance's long-time girlfriend, Sefa, who had returned to LA the previous day. Lance had been with Sefa since his teens. "If she carries on like this she'll go—"

"Alright fellas," Gwaine interrupted, dropping down onto the sofa beside Merlin with a bounce. "What we talking about?"

"You're late," Merlin complained half-heartedly, kicking Gwaine's shin.

Gwaine grinned. "Sorry, I got side-tracked." He leant over to Merlin and whispered, "By a nice fat cock in my mouth."

Merlin nearly choked on a mouthful of juice. "Oh. You're a fast worker!"

Gwaine's smile was the cat that got the cream. "Nah, it wasn't Cenred. Not yet, anyway."

"Then who—"

It was then that Arthur appeared, spotting them in the corner and crossing the room to join them. Merlin saw him lock eyes with Gwaine and flush before looking away to greet Leon, Lance and himself. Merlin felt the blood drain from his head as he connected the dots. "Oh." _Oh God_.

He didn't have any right whatsoever to feel jealous, he'd given that right away last year, his insides twisted with the pain of it and his traitorous brain provided him with graphic images of Arthur and Gwaine together to stoke the flames.

"Does anyone need a drink?" Arthur asked as he arrived at the table.

Lance and Leon both shook their heads but Gwaine nodded and said, "Mine's a pint of Stella."

"Merlin?" Merlin blinked up at Arthur. He managed a shake of the head and Arthur about turned and headed to the bar.

Merlin looked again at Gwaine, the question on the tip of his tongue that would stick the knife in even further when Gwaine gave his affirmation that it had been Arthur 'side-tracking' him earlier. Gwaine caught his eye and raised a questioning eyebrow and Merlin's words died in his throat. He didn't want to know details.

"So," Merlin said with an insincere smile. "I can't believe I'm asking this after all the cake I've eaten today, but are we eating later?"

::::

Arthur woke up on Monday morning feeling hungover even though he hadn't had a drink since Saturday night in the hotel bar. He knew a shower would wake him up but so would a cup of tea, and the tea won. He rolled out of bed and padded down the stairs and made his way to the kitchen to flip on the kettle. While he waited for it to boil he returned to the lounge and perch on the edge of the sofa and rubbed his eyes.

He felt the impact as Basil jumped up next to him, his purr louder than a jet engine to Arthur's overtired brain. "Hey, buddy," Arthur said, scratching the ginger and white cat under his chin fondly. "I missed you. Did Jack feed you okay?"

Basil head-butted Arthur's palm and continued to purr.

"Pleased to hear it," Arthur said, making a mental note to buy his eighty-something neighbour a bottle of something next time he was at the supermarket, the old guy was a diamond. Basil stared up at Arthur, unblinking. "Don't look at me like that, you flea-bitten mog."

Basil didn't react. Not even a blink.

"All right, all right, _yes_, he was there okay. What do you want me to say?"

In the kitchen the kettle boiled and Arthur sighed. He scratched Basil between the ears and went to make himself that tea. Once he'd slopped the milk into the mug he returned to the sofa where Basil was still waiting, still looking at him in that way he had that seemed to make Arthur want to confess his every sin. On some level Arthur was aware that this might be his way of justifying talking to himself, on the other hand, Basil _knew_.

"That model wanker he's been seeing cheated on him," Arthur said, sitting back against the cushions and nursing the tea between both hands. "What an idiot. He has Merlin. _Merlin_, Basil, you know? He's hit the motherlode and he doesn't even appreciate what he's got." He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He knew it wasn't that simple. He didn't have a window inside their relationship. Maybe the hulking model hadn't been getting any return from Merlin on an emotional level and had looked elsewhere. Arthur could sympathise. Or perhaps Merlin had cheated first. Arthur only had what he had read in the paper to go on.

He of all people, the son of Uther Pendragon and Ygraine Dubois, should know better than to believe what the papers said. He'd obviously _wanted_to believe the headlines for some fucked up reason that only his subconscious was privy to.

Basil jumped onto his lap and curled up.

"I wish I'd had the balls to jack in the show," Arthur said, stroking Basil's back. "I wish I could stop wanting him." Being sucked off by Gwaine had done nothing to take the edge off, in fact it had probably made it worse. Gwaine knew what he was doing and Arthur would have to be made of granite not to react to his ministrations, but it had all been so… perfunctory, unsatisfying and definitely not something he wanted to repeat.

Basil's purr kicked back in and he wriggled deeper into Arthur's lap.

"I'm fucked, aren't I?"

Arthur's only reply was a soft snore from Basil.

::::

"We've got a real treat for you after the news," said Louise, nudging her co-host Bill. "Arthur Pendragon and Merlin Emrys from the Great British Bake Off will be here to talk about the new series that airs tonight. If you're lucky, Bill, they'll be bringing samples."

Bill chuckled heartily and rubbed his stomach. "I'm watching what I eat," he replied.

"Merlin, would you stop pacing?" Arthur said, turning away from the fifty inch television that graced the wall in the BBC green room to glare at Merlin. "You've been on live television before."

Merlin stalled and looked at Arthur. "That was before."

"Before what?"

Merlin averted his eyes briefly, chewing his lip nervously before raising his gaze to Arthur's again and saying, "Before all that stuff in the paper about Percival and me yesterday."

Monday's Sun had gone to town on Merlin and Percival quoting 'a close friend of the couple' who had said that Percival was crazy about Merlin and that Merlin was nowhere near as invested and was only in it for the sex and had refused to move in with his lover when asked. They had then spoken to people who knew Mordred Sage who had said the same thing about that relationship. 'Merlin leads them on then he drops them' one source had said. 'Merlin waits until they're hooked and then wreaks maximum havoc,' said another.

"You're worried that they're going to ask you about it?" Arthur's empathy had gone for a hike. It could so easily had been him they were talking about in that article, led on and then dropped. Thankfully the media hadn't caught wind of what had been playing out under their noses last year.

Merlin didn't answer. He shook his head and resumed pacing. That whole article had been true, he was like that, though it wasn't his fault if someone expected more from him that he was able to give. He never lied about his long term intentions. Merlin had no idea who the 'friends' were or if they even existed, but not one word they had written was libellous.

There was also the article in one of the tabloids a couple months back, an interview with an anonymous source who had apparently caught Merlin and Percival fucking, or more to the point, Merlin fucking Percival. The source had expressed shock over the scenario, exclaiming that because of Percival's height and girth in comparison to Merlin's lesser height and slenderness, they had expected the roles to be reversed. Merlin had no idea who the supposed source was, couldn't recall anyone barging in on him and Percival, but then, maybe they had simply been too engrossed in one another one of those times Merlin had been with Percival in his dressing room after a show. Merlin had been furious about that article back then, but he'd managed to put it from his mind until the article yesterday raked it all back up again.

"They won't ask," Arthur snapped. "They're only interested in cakes and bunting. No one watching BBC sodding Breakfast cares where your cock has been and if you care so much about what the press has to say about you, then maybe go for someone less newsworthy for your next shag!"

"Arthur, what—?" Merlin rounded on Arthur, arms crossed in front of his chest. Arthur sounded angry—no—he sounded furious. The coolly polite man that had met him that morning in outside the BBC building was a distant and much more pleasant memory than the one that was being made in this moment.

Arthur was glaring at him as though Merlin had just announced he'd cancelled summer.

"Mr Emrys, Mr Pendragon, you're on in five," said the runner who'd shown them to the green room fifteen minutes earlier, appearing in the doorway. "If you would follow me, I'll get you miked up."

Merlin broke eye contact with Arthur and smiled politely at the man and said, "On our way." The runner nodded and turned to leave. Merlin followed and didn't check if Arthur was behind him. He couldn't believe they were about to go on live television with the current tension between them.

He let someone clip a mike to his shirt and the pack to the back of his skinny jeans, went on autopilot to wait just off camera so he could be ready to slip onto the sofa when the signal was given. He was vaguely aware of Arthur being next to him the whole time. They were called, Arthur sitting closer to Louise and Merlin on the end. Hopefully it would be like it had been at the weekend when the cameras were rolling, where he and Arthur could banter like old friends so well that Merlin even believed in those moments that that was the truth.

Most of the interview went by in a blur and Merlin found his voice, saying the right things in the right places, laughing at Arthur's jokes. There was a moment at the end that he was certain Louise was going to mention Percival when she'd teased both he and Arthur about having a large internet following and fan base but the moment had passed and before Merlin knew it he was having his mike removed and the whole thing was over.

"Merlin—" Arthur began, coming to a standstill beside Merlin as he stopped in the doorway to search in his pocket for his phone.

"Sorry, Arthur," Merlin said, unlocking his phone and scrolling to Lance's number. He didn't want to hear Arthur's forced apology, if that was what he was about to do, didn't want to face up to what he strongly suspected was jealousy; he couldn't deal with that. "I have to be somewhere. I'll see you on Friday." Without looking at Arthur again he fled the building, jumping into the first taxi he saw.

When he arrived home, Lance already had a pot of coffee on and had opened a box of Tunnock's tea cakes. "God, Lance, you are a lifesaver," Merlin said, reaching for a teacake, tearing off the foil and biting the marshmallow off the top in one mouthful. Lance poured him a black coffee and pushed it across the breakfast bar at Merlin.

"What's happened?"

Merlin shovelled the biscuit base into his mouth and swallowed. "Arthur. What else?"

::::

Friday rolled around too quickly. The crew had a production meeting at 3 o'clock in one of the hotel conference rooms and Arthur purposely timed his arrival to coincide with that so that he wouldn't have chance to run into Merlin beforehand.

As it then worked out, he was the last one into the room. He slipped into the only free seat in the room, next to Nimueh, and attempted to look attentive, nodding politely at Leon and Lance.

"The ratings for the first episode are in," Lance said, fighting back a grin. "Seven point six million! We totally blew the competition out of the water, so thank you everyone for making it possible. As we know, our ratings tend to increase weekly and peak with the final, so fingers crossed, the only way is up."

After that the meeting droned on and despite his better judgement, Arthur found his eyes being drawn to Merlin. He never had been able to look the other way when Merlin was in the room. Merlin looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes. He was staring at a fixed point in the table in front of him and thumbing the tattooed 'H' on his left wrist that was normally covered by his watch.

He looked utterly miserable. Arthur had to fight back his instinct to offer comfort, not least because he suspected that his behaviour on Wednesday may well be a contributory factor and Merlin wouldn't want comfort from him anyway. Arthur didn't have the right. And even though he'd thought he had for a while, he never had. What he'd thought was going to be forever had only lasted six weeks. He had completely read Merlin wrong.

The meeting finally drew to a close and Merlin shot out of his seat and out of the room, Lance staring after him with a concerned expression. Lance turned to look at Arthur then as everyone else trickled out of the room around them, the concern vanishing to be replaced by Lance's usual congenial demeanour. "Arthur, how are you?"

Arthur stood and went over to where Lance was still seated, leaning against the table beside him. "Well thanks, yourself?"

Lance shrugged. "I've no complaints."

"I saw Sefa's show last night."

Lance's fiancé, Sefa, was an actress and had been cast as the lead in the BBC's modern day adaptation of Austen's _Persuasion_.

"It's good, isn't it?" Lance beamed with pride.

"It's not my usual taste so I only started watching it because she's in it, but I did enjoy it." He took a deep breath, "Look, Lance, is Merlin—"

Lance held up a warning hand, the smile falling from his face. "If you want to know about Merlin, ask Merlin," he said firmly. "I'm not getting in the middle of you two."

Arthur realised then that Lance definitely knew what had gone on with the two of them last year. Of course he did. Merlin lived with him, Lance was his best friend. Just because the only confidants Arthur had were his absent sister and his cat didn't mean Merlin was in a similar position. "Yeah, sorry," he shook his head. "You're right."

Lance stood up. He patted Arthur's arm and his smile returned along with his sense of humour. "I always am, Arthur, never forget that." He shoved his papers into his rucksack. "I was going to borrow one of the hotel bikes and go for a ride, do you fancy it?"

Arthur didn't fancy anything other than face planting onto his bed for a quick nap and then some room service and bad telly before bed. He considered both options and decided that cycling would tire him out and he would sleep better that night. "Sounds good," he agreed. "Lead the way."

::::

"I'm sorry you're caught in the middle of this," said Percival Blake, accepting his second cup of strong black coffee off Lance with a small smile. "Merlin won't answer my calls or texts so what else was I supposed to do? I just got back today so—"

"It's fine, don't worry," Lance said politely and took a sip of his own drink. He watched Percival over the rim of his mug and felt a tug of sympathy for him. The man was smitten. Of course, Lance suspected that that would hold no sway with Merlin. Merlin ran the other way the moment anyone started to make noises about love or commitment. His late ex-boyfriend Will still seemed to have a hold over Merlin that Lance couldn't even begin to understand. "I'm sure Merlin will be back soon."

"So Merlin told me your girlfriend is an actress?" Percival said after a prolonged silence, both of them sipping their drinks and avoiding eye contact.

The subject of Sefa was at least a safe one. "Yes. Sefa's in LA at the moment filming a pilot."

"Oh? What's it about?"

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the flat, followed by footsteps and Merlin's appearance in the doorway, his face flushed and his hair in disarray. "What do _you_ want?" he said, glaring at Percival.

Lance hastened to his feet. "I'll be in my room," he said, catching Merlin's eye as he passed and adding, "I promised Sefa I'd give her a ring around now."

"Say hi from me," Merlin said and turned his attention back to Percival.

Lance closed his bedroom door behind him and kicking off his shoes he lay on his bed and dialled Sefa. The phone went direct to voicemail and Lance couldn't help his sigh of relief. He missed her. He loved her. He couldn't remember his life without Sefa in it. They'd been together since they were fourteen and Lance was twenty-seven now. They'd been engaged since Sefa's twenty-first birthday but they had made no further steps towards a wedding or even moving in together. Lance _loved_ her, but… all he could see when he closed his eyes in bed at night was long dark curls and sparkling brown eyes set in the sweet pretty face of Gwen Smith.

The guilt was eating him up.

He tried to distract himself, wondering what was going on downstairs with Merlin and Percival, hoping that he had been right and that they weren't currently tearing one another's clothes off instead of having a necessary conversation. He wouldn't put that past Merlin.

Lance didn't even pretend that he understood Merlin most of the time. Merlin didn't like affection—he occasionally held his current boyfriend's hand and tolerated a hug from Lance but never instigated one—and he hated being out of control to the extent that he never touched alcohol, and obviously he didn't mind being touched by his lovers in _other_ ways. Merlin didn't let many people in. Gwaine had made the inner circle by virtue of being Lance's good friend, Mithian had slipped in with perseverance and Freya and Merlin shared an affinity with baking that few others truly understood.

Then there was Arthur. For a while, with the way Merlin had been during the few weeks they had been together—happier and more carefree than Lance had ever seen him—Lance had thought that maybe he had been wrong in his initial assessment and that Merlin had finally met someone who_could_ burrow beneath all his protective barriers and set up camp. To his disappointment, Arthur had been cast aside as Lance had originally predicted he would be. He would have loved to be wrong, for Arthur's sake if no other reason... for Merlin's too.

His phone rang then as Sefa called him back. As Lance answered the call, "Hello love," he heard the front door slam and the muffled sounds of Merlin filling the kettle. He relaxed slightly. "How are you?"

::::

To say that Merlin was having a bad week was something of an understatement. Things had gone from bad to worse. He'd spent Wednesday and Thursday at his Holborn shop with Freya going through the plans for their café and when they'd finally finished for the day and Merlin had made it home, he'd found half a dozen paps loitering on the pavement outside the flat, cameras flashing in his face when he rounded the corner. That could only mean one thing and sure enough, when Merlin made it through and inside he'd found Percival sitting on the sofa with an apologetic looking Lance.

What had then followed was Lance retreating into his room to ring Sefa, and an awkward conversation for Merlin with Percival. Percival had armed himself with all of the weapons in his arsenal; he'd dressed himself in tight jeans with an even tighter sleeveless t-shirt that showed off his magnificent arms and chest, his bedroom eyes were out in full force and his huge hands still knew how to slide along Merlin's thigh just so. Merlin's body still knew how to react to his touch and it had taken a lot of willpower for him to say _no_, firmly, that it wasn't because of the Chippendale, it was because Percival wanted more than Merlin was willing to give, end of story.

On Friday morning, some of the tabloids had pictures of Percival arriving at Merlin's and leaving a couple of hours later… but not one of Merlin's own arrival just twenty minutes before Percival's departure, spinning the story to make it seem as though Merlin had been inside the flat with him the whole time. That had resulted in Merlin being tailed all morning as he went about his business. It had been a relief to head up to Bath for the Bake Off shoot.

The texts from Percival asking for another chance had begun despite Merlin's rejection of him on Thursday. Merlin didn't reply.

The worst thing was that Percival and the tabloids were nothing in comparison to the movie playing in Merlin's head, on a fucking _loop_, of Arthur and Gwaine together. Every time he had a moment to think, every time he closed his eyes, there they were. Percival's texts weren't the only ones Merlin was ignoring; he hadn't been able to face Gwaine either and he hated himself for it. Merlin didn't have many friends and he didn't want to lose the ones he did have. His jealousy wasn't Gwaine's fault; Gwaine didn't even know what had happened with Arthur and Merlin last year.

As soon as the production meeting ended, Merlin had bolted to his room and locked the door, feasting on a Double Decker out of the mini-bar for his evening meal before crawling into bed and hoping sleep would come.

Saturday came and with it brought dark skies and incessant rain as though Merlin had conjured it to match his mood.

Arthur beat him to hair and make-up again. Merlin smiled brightly at his reflection and went to sit in the other free chair to await Helen's attentions. He felt Arthur's eyes on him but kept his own straight ahead, glaring at his own reflection in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes would soon be magically concealed by Helen's brush and he might actually look human for a while instead of like someone who'd been dug up.

Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell it was about him that Percival was so enraptured in. He knew he wasn't a complete troll and people were always going on about his cheekbones, but even so, Percival could have anyone he wanted, he was a bloody supermodel for Christ's sake. It was the same thing with Mordred and Arthur. They were rich, famous and fucking gorgeous. As far as Merlin could see, he only had one thing going for him: he was good in bed. He knew if he'd said that out loud it would be considered bragging, but to inside his own head he could admit it was probably the truth. It had to be that – Merlin's skills with his tongue and the way he rolled his hips, because it certainly wasn't his skills in the kitchen they kept coming back for.

The morning really dragged. Week three was always bread week and whilst bread was one of Merlin's favoured food groups, he'd found last series that having to sample twenty different bakes in one day left him feeling bloated and by the time the lunch hour rolled around, he felt as though he'd eaten enough to feed the five thousand. Leon called 'cut' and Merlin headed straight to the judge's kitchen and collapsed lengthways onto his favourite spot on the sofa, closed his eyes and vowed not to move until lunch break was over.

He heard someone enter a couple of minutes later and assumed it was Mithian on Merlin-watch again. "I'm hiding," he said without opening his eyes.

"Not very well, seeing as I've found you," said a voice that definitely wasn't Mithian's. Merlin wasn't actually sure _whose_ voice it actually was until he reluctantly opened one eye to find Edwin Green standing by the table watching him intently.

"Edwin, um, this room is crew only," he said, feeling obliged to sit up and swing his feet to the floor. He rubbed his eyes and peered up at Edwin. Edwin's eyes were a piercing blue that seemed to look right inside Merlin. Merlin didn't like it.

"I wanted to—"

The door opened behind him and Mithian bounded in. "That's it, Emrys, you anti-social— Oh, hello, Edwin." She raised a quizzical eyebrow at Merlin who gave a tiny shrug in response.

"Have you come to force me to eat lunch again, Mith?" Merlin asked, having no intention of eating a single morsel but happy for the excuse to escape Edwin without it getting awkward. He turned his attention back to Edwin and said, "Sorry, Edwin, did you want something?"

"No, it's fine," Edwin said, backing away towards the door. He shot Mithian a withering glare and disappeared.

Mithian stuck her tongue out after him as Merlin got to his feet. "That wasn't weird _at all_. What was that all about?"

"No idea, but thanks for the timely save. He had the look of a wild fan about him." Merlin had encountered his fair share of crazy fans in the last couple of years. Edwin had the look of one who was about to rip his shirt open and ask Merlin to autograph across his stomach, and yes, that had actually happened to him before.

Shaking off the unpleasant vision, Merlin walked alongside Mithian up to the main hotel under a BBC golfing umbrella. He allowed Mithian to talk him into a cup of tea whilst she munched on a bowl of chips. Most of the contestants were nowhere to be seen and from the crew, only Rowena was in the lounge, perched on a stool at the bar chatting to the regular barman.

Mithian cleared her throat and said, "Last year, once you'd settled in, you and Arthur were like that for a while." She held up her crossed fore and middle fingers. "Then the show wrapped and you both started acting like the other didn't exist. Tell me to mind my own business if you like, but, what happened?"

Merlin didn't answer. _Couldn't_ answer. Mithian had clearly been working her way up to asking. He knew his guilt must be written all over his face.

"Oh my God," Mithian clapped a hand over her mouth. "It's true. I mean, I suspected and you know I thought the two of you were made for each other. Why—"

"Mith, with the greatest respect," Merlin said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "Mind your own business."

Mithian's face fell. "I— Okay, of course. Just, if you need to talk, Merlin, I'm always here."

"I know, and I appreciate that." If only it were that easy and talking about something could make it all okay.

Mithian smiled weakly and went for a change of subject. "So, did you watch Sefa's programme last night?"

::::

Arthur was first down to the hotel lounge that evening by at least twenty minutes because upstairs in his room, he'd felt the walls closing in on him and he'd headed down to escape them. Six of them – Leon, Lance, Gwaine, Merlin, Mithian and himself – were heading into Bath for a meal at a vegetarian restaurant that had come highly recommended by the hotel concierge. Arthur had considered turning the invite down when Mithian had issued it, but that would mean another night alone in his room and that was the last thing he wanted or needed. If he tried to spend the next seven weeks avoiding Merlin then he'd be in that hotel room every night and besides, self-destructive though it was, he _wanted_ to be where Merlin was. The ache in his heart was lessened by his proximity even though he was only allowed to look and not touch.

He made the mistake of picking up a discarded newspaper from the coffee table in front of him and finding himself scowling at an article from Friday's Mirror about Percival spending several hours at Merlin's flat. Had boy-wonder come to grovel after his latest indiscretion? Arthur considered the photograph of Percival Blake with narrowed eyes, feeling sick. Twenty-three years old, gorgeous, built like a tank with a sodding six-pack and probably a cock the size of the Eiffel fucking Tower. He and Merlin made a stunning couple—Arthur had spent many an hour imagining them together, much as he tried not to. Imagining Percival on his back with Merlin between his huge thighs… Arthur hated Percival Blake in that moment more than he'd ever hated anyone and he hadn't even met the bloke.

Arthur hated the jealous person he had become even more.

Angrily he tossed aside the newspaper and made a grab for a magazine. He flicked impatiently through its pages, stopping suddenly when he recognised Gwaine's profile and realised that this was the much mocked photo shoot that he'd heard so much about but had yet to see for himself. He felt some of the tension leave him as an unexpected smile broke free. Only Gwaine could carry something like that off. Posing in front of one of the hotel windows, head half turned towards the camera, backside on display for the world. It was a very nice backside, Arthur wasn't blind. It was just… _Gwaine_, and again Arthur wondered what the hell had possessed him last week. He didn't even _fancy_ Gwaine outside of a basic appreciation of the male form.

Arthur felt the breeze rush through his hair as the door behind him opened to admit somebody. That somebody came to a halt behind him causing Arthur to turn, the magazine still open on Gwaine's picture in front of him. Merlin stood there, staring down at the photograph until he realised that Arthur was looking at him. Their eyes met briefly before Merlin looked away again and rounded the seating area to sit on the opposite end of the sofa from Arthur. Arthur closed the magazine and tossed it onto the coffee table so it covered the newspaper article about Merlin and Percival. The last thing he wanted was for Merlin to think he had been reading it.

"I'm glad it's stopped raining," Merlin said after a couple of minutes of painful silence.

Arthur couldn't help snorting. Look how very English they were, talking about the weather when they had nothing else to say to one another. "Me too," he replied. "Hopefully it will stay nice tomorrow."

"Hmm," Merlin's replied before the awkwardness descended once more.

It was the silence that prompted him, Arthur was sure, because he'd certainly had no intention of saying anything on the subject when he blurted, "So you and boy-wonder are back on again then?" Fuck-fuck-fuck. What was the _matter_ with him? He sincerely hoped he didn't sound as jealous as he felt.

He heard Merlin's shocked intake of breath. "Yes, yes we are." Merlin stood and rounded on Arthur, leaning forward to whisper in his ear, "I spent all of Thursday afternoon balls deep in the man if you really want to know." Merlin's breath tickled Arthur's ear and the images Merlin's words conjured thickened his traitorous cock.

Merlin stepped back, his eyes blazing fire. Gods but Arthur wanted to kiss him. How could he still want that when the man had rejected him, broken his heart and who had probably been in another man's bed before Arthur's sheets even turned cold? The words that had formed on the tip of his tongue faded as Merlin's eyes darkened and, _fuck_, Merlin still wanted him too.

That changed things.

"Is everyone ready, the taxis are here," Mithian said from behind Merlin and Arthur realised that everyone had arrived and broke eye contact. Shaken, Arthur got to his feet and, giving Merlin a wide berth, he went to join Mithian as she hopped impatiently from foot to foot by the door.

Arthur made sure he was in a different taxi from Merlin and when they got to the restaurant he sat at the opposite end of the table. The waiter recognised them and fawned over them all, asking if he could take a picture of them for the restaurant's website. Everyone held up their glasses of wine and smiled dutifully for the photo.

They were halfway through the main course when Gwaine said, "So are you and the supermodel still shagging or what, Merlin?"

Before Merlin could reply, Lance warned, "Gwaine, leave it."

"It's alright, Lance, I can speak for myself," Merlin said and all eyes turned to him. "No, we're not. It's over and if it's the latest newspaper articles you're referring to then they're very misleading. Percival was at the flat for a couple of hours, but what they don't mention is that I only arrived in the last half an hour before he left and poor Lance had been stuck making small talk with him until then. You know how they twist everything." He met Arthur's eyes without a hint of guilt that he'd lied to him earlier and given him a completely different answer to the same question.

Someone changed the subject and Arthur stared down at his plate, any appetite he had was gone. In that moment, he made up his mind. They couldn't go on like this. When they got back to the hotel, he was having it out with Merlin—and it was long overdue.

::::

Merlin had been half expecting the knock on the door. He'd crossed a line earlier and he honestly had no idea what devil had got into him, lying to Arthur like that, other than the pure jealousy that had washed through him when he'd seen Arthur looking at that photo of Gwaine, _knowing_ that last week they'd hooked up, even if it had meant nothing which with Gwaine it certainly wouldn't. The desire to hurt Arthur as he himself was hurting was frightening.

He didn't understand it because he'd been the one to end it between them, it had only ever been physical, and Arthur could have been fucking half of London in the time they'd been apart and there was nothing Merlin could do about that, so why now?

When he opened the door it was a furious Arthur that stepped inside without invite, closing the door behind him with a bang. He looked Merlin up and down, eyes lingering on the tree tattoo that wound up his side from beneath the pyjama bottoms he was wearing. Eventually he said, their eyes locking together, "We need to talk."

Merlin felt caught in Arthur's intense gaze, unable to move. "So talk."

Arthur took a step forward, and another and another until he was almost toe to toe with Merlin. Merlin's heart hammered in his chest like he'd been running a marathon. He could smell Arthur's cologne and count the lashes above his eyes. Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.

In the end he wasn't sure which of them moved first, maybe it had even been simultaneous. One moment they had been glaring at one another, the next, their mouths were fused together, hot and desperate, Arthur's hand cupping the back of Merlin's neck, fingers in his hair.

It hurt to breathe.

Clothes were hastily discarded in the frenzy of kisses. Arthur kissed a trail down Merlin's neck, his fingers gripping hard onto his hipbones as though he thought that Merlin might fall over. They fell onto the bed and Merlin scrambled backwards, letting his legs fall open in invitation.

Arthur licked his swollen lips. "God, Merlin," he breathed, crawling up and over Merlin so that he was straddling him, their faces millimetres apart. They kissed again and Merlin bucked up against Arthur, already desperate to have him inside or vice versa, to fuck away the itch. Merlin could feel the weight of Arthur's cock, hot and heavy against the flat plane of his belly and he reached down and circled it between thumb and forefinger. Arthur groaned and sat up. He regarded Merlin with hooded lids for the count of three before staring down at where their cocks were lined up together, red against the paleness of Merlin's skin.

With one hand Arthur reached upwards and smoothed his thumb over one of Merlin's sensitive nipples, surrounded by the branches of his tree tattoo, then leant forwards to replace his thumb with his tongue. He kissed a path across to the other side and up Merlin's chest and buried his face in Merlin's neck. Merlin wriggled beneath him, "Arthur," he said, tilting his hips upwards. "Come on. Please."

Arthur nipped Merlin's earlobe and said, "Where's the stuff?"

Merlin reached out with his right arm into his bedside unit and after a short sightless rummage came back with the required items. He tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth as Arthur sat back up again and said, "Come here."

Arthur scooted upwards and Merlin slowly rolled the condom down Arthur's straining cock, eyes locked on his. He wanted, needed this. Arthur, like this above him, desiring him, trembling for him. Arthur ran his thumb along Merlin's lower lip and Merlin caught it between his lips, loving the gasp it elicited.

Arthur moved then, nudging Merlin's thighs open with his knees. Merlin let his thighs fall open, eager for what came next. Arthur stole another kiss from Merlin, hand moving along the taut smoothness of Merlin's stomach, tracing the hair of his treasure trail south, teasing Merlin's erection on his path past his balls, to his destination between Merlin's thighs. He sat back then, Merlin chasing his kiss.

Reaching for the packet of lube Merlin had liberated from the drawer Arthur tore it open and liberally coated his fingers. He was staring down at Merlin's hole with a hungry expression. Merlin lifted his hips, _get on with it_, and Arthur obeyed, opening Merlin up slowly, biting his lip in concentration for a few endless minutes as until he made it to three fingers and twisted, causing Merlin to yell out and buck upwards. "Arthur," he managed. "I'm not made of glass. Just give me your cock!"

"Impatient, aren't we?" Arthur teased, removing both fingers and leaning back to regard Merlin with a quirk of his lips. He looked fucked out already, his blond hair flat against his head, a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead. Jeez, he was beautiful. Merlin's heart constricted painfully. Arthur was… he was… everything.

"_We_ aren't anything," Merlin complained. "_You_ are a bloody slow poke." He grinned at the pun. Arthur rolled his eyes and went back to work.

This time he didn't waste a second and before Merlin could complain again he was lining up his cock and pushing in. Merlin felt a moment of brief panic, old, familiar and unwanted and he pushed it to the back of his mind to concentrate on here, now and Arthur. Arthur leant down over him and covered Merlin's lips with his as he bottomed out.

Merlin tangled a hand in Arthur's hair and hooked a leg around the small of Arthur's back, pulling him in. Their eyes met again as Arthur began to move. At first it was slow as Arthur found his rhythm, tender and sweet as the kisses. Merlin wrapped his other leg around Arthur and slipped a hand between them to wrap around his own cock as Arthur began to pick up pace. Arthur made a noise of protest and stilled, pulling out and sitting back on his heels.

He unpeeled Merlin's hand from around his cock and replaced it with one of his own, pulled Merlin down the bed and pulling his bottom onto his knees before plunging back into him. Merlin wrapped a leg around him again and Arthur paused to lift the other leg onto his shoulder. He was staring down at the point where his cock joined Merlin, eyes wide. The hand around Merlin's cock began to move and the pace picked up, as did Arthur's breathing.

Merlin had never been a talker beyond the odd 'yes' or 'fuck' when it came to sex even if he did like it when his partner talked dirty to him. He was, however, noisy. He couldn't hold back the volume now even if he had wanted to. As Arthur fucked into him, telling him how he was going to make him come undone, Merlin's groans intensified as he approached his release.

Arthur leant forward again and kissed him, swallowing his, groans. "I missed this," Arthur said as he pulled back a little. "I need to hear you come."

He pulled out and slammed into Merlin hard, stripping Merlin's cock between them, pulling something close to a scream from him as he teetered on the edge of coming. "Arthur, God, do it, fuck me, pleaaase, oh God, yes, yes—nnnnggggggh!" He came then, come spurting between them as for a moment the world turned white.

Arthur fucked him through it with a rhythm that matched the hand on Merlin's cock. "So perfect, Merlin, so perfect," Arthur breathed as he spasmed inside Merlin, burying his neck in Merlin's throat.

They lay like that for long minutes, coming down from their high, Arthur eventually pulling out and lobbing the condom in the vague direction of the bin. He flopped down beside Merlin, breathing still heavy. Merlin found the energy to reach for the box of tissues from beside the bed and cleaned the come off their stomachs, dropping them to the floor afterward, figuring he'd worry about the mess later.

More contented than he'd felt in a long time, Merlin closed his eyes and curled in towards Arthur's warmth. He was asleep before he had time to start over-analysing the situation. All he knew was that Arthur was going to be impossible to forget this time, and the niggling voice in his head was saying, _why do you need to?_

::::


	5. Chapter 5

An unexpected guest was waiting for Arthur when he arrived back at his flat on Sunday night. Morgana was curled up in his armchair with Basil on her lap watching what appeared to be a Sandra Bullock rom-com on Arthur's wide screen.

"You could have told me you were back in the country," he said, bending down to kiss her cheek and rub Basil behind his ears. He'd been planning on heading straight for a shower then to bed but he hadn't seen Morgana for a few months whilst she flitted around the globe making it more glamourous.

"It was a last minute thing. You don't mind if I stay here for a few days do you?"

"I'd be glad of the company," Arthur replied, wishing it were true. "Do you want another?" He nodded at the near empty cup of tea on the side table. Morgana nodded and Arthur took the cup into the kitchen for a refill and from the teapot poured himself a generous measure of whisky too.

Back in the living room he sat on the end of the sofa and kicked off his shoes. "So tell me, how's the world of fashion?"

"Same old, the only thing that changes is the seasons," Morgana said, taking a sip of her tea and raising her eyes to Arthur's. "I'm planning on taking a break anyway. I'm— I'm pregnant."

"Crikey." Arthur blinked. He had not expected _that_. "Who's the father?"

Morgana rolled her eyes. "How did I know that would be your first question?"

"I didn't know you were seeing anyone, that's all."

"I'm not. This was a one time thing."

"Are you okay?" Morgana was a tough and incredibly independent woman more than capable of bringing up a baby on her own, but that didn't mean she should have to.

"I'm ecstatic actually." She placed a hand over her perfectly flat belly. "I _am_ going to tell the father, just, not yet. I'm only nine weeks gone. If I make it to twelve I'll tell him. I don't want this little one growing up without one of our parents like us."

"I'm going to be an uncle," Arthur said with wonder, picturing sunny days out to the zoo and picnics in the park.

"Gwaine's the father," Morgana admitted suddenly.

Arthur nearly choked on his wine. "I didn't even know you _knew_ Gwaine."

"I met him at your wrap party last year, remember?"

Like Arthur recalled anything from that night other than Merlin ending things with him afterwards. He'd completely forgotten that Morgana had been there as had a few other crew family and friends.

"Are you in love with him?" Arthur decided that it wouldn't be wise to mention to Morgana what had happened with himself and Gwaine last week. That was an incident that should be brushed under the carpet and remain there!

Morgana shot him a scathing look. "What do you think? I gave him my number and we hooked up for an evening when he was in New York last month. He certainly knows what he's doing, _you know_, but that was as far as it went. The condom must've split."

"And this is the last time we discuss _how_ you got pregnant," Arthur said, shielding his eyes in the hope that the vision would disappear. "I assume you haven't told Father yet?"

"Goodness no, and I don't plan to until I stop being able to hide the bump."

Arthur imagined that Uther would either be horrified that his only daughter was pregnant by a man she had spent one night with—and that would be somewhat hypocritical considering Morgana's own conception—or overjoyed with the prospect of becoming a grandfather. Personally, Arthur thought it would be the latter, but with Uther you never knew until the day.

They stayed up until the early hours, catching up and discussing names _not_ to call the baby. Morgana had already retired half an hour earlier before Arthur finally got up to go to bed. He'd been staring into the dregs of his whisky wondering what the fuck he'd been thinking last night with Merlin.

After the sex, Merlin had curled into Arthur's side and fallen asleep. Arthur had lain there barely breathing until he knew it was safe to escape and he'd yanked on his clothes and returned to his own room. Last year, they'd always been either in Arthur's hotel room or at Arthur's flat and Merlin had always, apart from that last time, left before morning. Arthur wasn't hanging around again for Merlin's inevitable rejection another time. Still, there was no doubt about it – nothing had changed. Merlin was still the best fuck he'd ever had and there had been a few over the years, even if there hadn't been anyone at all, other than Gwaine, since last summer and Merlin.

They had ignored each other except when necessary during Sunday's shoot and the conflab that had sent Catrina Tregor home and seen Isolde Fairweather crowned star baker. As soon as they had been free to leave, Merlin had bolted.

::::

Merlin watched the airing of the third episode on Tuesday night with Lance, legs tucked under his chin with a mug of coffee balanced on the arm of the chair. When the show ended Lance muted the television and said, "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Merlin looked at Lance and shook his head. "I expect you can guess."

"Merlin, you're rebounding straight from Percival back to Arthur."

"'M not. It's only sex, Lance. That's all it is. All it's ever been." Merlin had to turn his attention back towards the silent television to avoid Lance's inquisition. It hadn't been 'just sex' and had it ever been that _base_ with Arthur? Merlin had fallen asleep with Arthur beside him, and he never—_never_—did that. At least not before the last time with Arthur last year. He'd not spent a whole night in a bed with someone since Will that wasn't a memory he wanted to return to.

"And if it happens again?"

"Just sex then, too." Merlin had woken the morning after alone, the space Arthur had occupied when Merlin had drifted off cold and empty. The twisting pain of that rejection could only be a taste of his own medicine. How many times had he left Arthur's bed before and told himself that it was expected. He'd only slipped up that one time, the night before the wrap party and it had completely thrown him. What had changed this time? Falling asleep next to Arthur had felt as natural as breathing.

"Merlin—"

Merlin held up a hand. "Don't, Lance, please."

Lance sighed heavily and pointed the remote at the television and the sound came back on. He settled back against the sofa and flipped the channel.

Merlin sipped his tea and stared at the screen feeling a teeny niggle of remorse for brushing off Lance when all he was guilty of was caring about a friend.

Merlin didn't deserve a friend like Lance. It was six years since they'd first met and Lance had never done him wrong despite Merlin's initial suspicions. Lance was modestly well off, as he had inherited family money, but he never made a thing of it and Merlin knew he'd rather still have his parents than the cash. Merlin paid his way and always had even if Lance could easily have got four times as much for Merlin's room in a flat like his in Primrose Hill, he'd maintained that he only wanted to rent the room to Merlin so if Merlin wasn't there he wouldn't be getting any money for it at all. Lance became the brother Merlin never had and over time, Merlin had pretty much told him almost everything. If Lance suspected there was more to Merlin's story then he had never said.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said, propping his chin on his knees and staring straight ahead.

Lance sighed. "Me, too. I just want you to be happy, Merlin. Arthur made you happy."

Merlin closed his eyes and pretended that he wasn't fighting back tears. Tears were a sign of weakness and he hadn't cried since he'd found out his mother had died. He unconsciously scratched his inner wrist where the 'H' tattoo was. _H for Hunith_.

They lapsed into familiar silence. The itch beneath Merlin's skin felt like fire, and was getting progressively worse since Sunday morning. After half an hour, Merlin could stand it no longer, he excused himself and retired to his room spent the next ten minutes pacing before he fired off a text message and sat back against his headboard to wait for a response. His reply came twenty minutes later in the form of a knock at the front door and huge strong arms sweeping him up when he answered.

"I'm glad you texted," Percival said, closing the door behind him and searching Merlin's face solemnly.

"This is a 'booty call'," Merlin said immediately. "That's all." He watched Percival for his reaction. Merlin needed this. It was totally selfish, he knew that. Selfish and unfair on Percival, but Merlin itched beneath his skin, he _needed_, he— He needed to cleanse away all traces of Arthur. Fuck it all, of course that was it. He cursed fate for throwing him into Arthur's path. A person couldn't miss what they'd never known could they? A person wouldn't burn with want for someone they'd never met.

Percival's hesitation was long. Merlin looked up at him from beneath his lashes and hoped that would sway him. He was being as honest as he could be. This would only be a fuck. It was good between them, had been from the start, Percival wouldn't turn that away. "Alright," he said finally, hand coming up to trace Merlin's lips. "I'll take what I can get."

Merlin almost sagged with relief. Percival kissed him and Merlin let himself be crowded against the wall and lifted. He wrapped his legs around Percival's waist and closing his eyes chased away the lingering thoughts of Arthur.

By the time they made it upstairs to his room Merlin had lost himself totally in the moment, not thinking about the inevitable crash that would come later. He watched with heavy lids as Percival insisted on preparing himself before straddling Merlin and lowering himself down and encompassing Merlin in his tight heat. This moment, he thought to himself, _this_.

::::

"Princess, as the best looking fella who ever had his mouth on your tackle—" Gwaine said, sitting down beside Arthur at the bar and nodding at the barman who started to pull him a pint of a honey coloured beer without Gwaine even having to ask. "—I'm willing to give you a second go."

"No, thanks," Arthur said, frowning into his own beer.

"I didn't think so," Gwaine said amiably, dragging a finger through the condensation on the side of his glass, catching Arthur's eye in his peripheral vision.

"So why'd you ask?" Arthur looked up at Gwaine and narrowed his eyes. Did Gwaine hit on anything with a pulse or just any Pendragon? Where did he get off going around impregnating people one minute and then propositioning their brother the next?

"You've been boring a hole in the side of my head all day," Gwaine said, taking a swig of his beer and raising his eyebrows at Arthur over the rim of his glass. "I figured you were up for another round and were wondering how to broach the subject or that I'd pissed you off somehow, and seeing as we're _friends_ and all, I assumed you'd tell me if I had, right?"

Their eyes met. "Right," Arthur lied, because he'd promised Morgana, on pain of death, that he would not tell Gwaine about his impending fatherhood, that Morgana would do it herself in her own time. With that in mind he sighed and said, "Look, about what happened between us—"

"Relax, Princess. It happened, it was nice and now it's done. If you'd wanted to do it again, that would've been nice too, but as it is, I'm not going to waste away pining over you or anything."

"Yeah, sorry, I knew that, just got a lot on my mind at the moment."

Gwaine contemplated him for a moment and said, "Something Merlin shaped?"

Arthur felt the unhappiness well up inside at Gwaine's surprising astuteness. They'd been filming all day and the only time Merlin had spoken to him had been on camera, dropping the hostility with ease. Otherwise it was a depressing mirror of the previous Sunday, the morning after their night together. What had made Arthur think that this time would be different? Apparently he was some kind of masochist.

"Something Merlin shaped," he confirmed, too tired to protest.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Arthur returned his gaze to his the dregs of his beer. "Nope."

"Fair enough," said Gwaine and tipped back his head to down the rest of his pint. "Another drink?"

Arthur knocked back the rest of his too and said, "Go on, then."

He wasn't quite drunk enough by the time he made it up to bed, which was a pity because what he wanted more than anything was to forget. He wanted to rewind his life to before he'd even met Merlin, keep Merlin in his head as a faraway image in the newspaper with his famous boyfriend and come to bed eyes. He wanted the old Arthur Pendragon back.

Fuck. How had it got it so wrong? He'd been lulled into love by long summer days and the slow drag of skin on skin, late night conversations and that need to get underneath someone's skin, to _know_ them, to have them come apart in your arms.

"No more," he said to the ceiling. "_No more_."

This time he planned to stick to it.

::::

It was easily the hottest day of the year so far and the temperature on set was ridiculous. Merlin was having fantasies of diving head first into the hotel pool the very moment that Leon called for lunch break. The heat was expounded by the nine now cooling ovens, studio lighting, and the heat from the number of bodies in the room.

"I don't know what happened," said Edwin, chewing his lip as Merlin, Arthur and Mithian stood with him in a semi-circle around the remains of his Showstopper tart, a tart that had been constructed in five parts, meticulously fixed together and was now listing sideways in a manner that would make the tower of Pisa seem upright.

"I hate to overuse the phrase," Arthur said, poking the sample on his plate with a fork and flipping it upside down, "But this has a soggy bottom."

Merlin tried to think of something positive about poor Edwin's tart. "The jam is divine," he managed, and it was the truth, at least he thought it was Edwin's tart, not the one before, everything was starting to blur and he was so _hot_. "Did you make it yourself?"

Edwin visibly relaxed and as he confirmed that he had indeed created the raspberry jam himself Merlin found himself drawn to Arthur. They'd been studiously ignoring one another since their night together and this morning, Leon had pulled them both over to one side and instructed them to 'sort themselves out or else', shoving the two of them into the kitchen area and closing the door behind them with a pointed click.

They had glared at one another, like two boxers squaring up before a match. Merlin hadn't missed how tired Arthur appeared, how sallow his skin was beneath his studio make-up but he'd told himself that what Arthur did was none of his business. "I—" Merlin began, not even sure what he wanted to say.

"I've seen the papers," Arthur had snapped, obviously referring to the pictures on Mail Online of Percy leaving Merlin's in the early hours of the morning the other night. "Does _Percy_ know you were with someone else only last weekend?"

Merlin didn't like how his gut twisted at Arthur's words; or why.

"I think you know my answer, but I'll say it anyway," he said, turning away, knowing that fifty–percent of his brain function would return if he wasn't_looking_ at Arthur. "Screw you."

He'd left the room then, only stalling for a second when he heard Arthur's low, "Been there, don't that." He headed back out into main set, nodding at Leon and giving him the thumbs up and vowing to act his socks off so that no one would have any cause for complaint if there was still tension between himself and Arthur.

Back in the present, Arthur looked his normal self, cocky and confident and easily the most gorgeous man of Merlin's acquaintance… and there had been plenty. There was no one else like Arthur though, no one else who made Merlin _want_ like Arthur did, no else who could make him vulnerable like Arthur could. Merlin hadn't known _need_ before he'd met Arthur. Not Mordred, not Percival, not any of the short-lived lovers he'd taken could hold a candle to him. In Arthur, Merlin saw his future, his past and his present. He saw home and heart and—

A huge swell of dizziness rose up to encompass Merlin. He was hot, so hot and so so fucked. He couldn't, he didn't… His last thought before the blackness rose up to claim him was of diving into the cool waters of the hotel pool, and then there was nothing.

::::

The first aiders had carried Merlin to the sofa in the kitchen and were tending to him behind a closed door. Arthur didn't have the power to see through doors or the right to go barging in there to demand to know what was going on so he removed himself completely from the set, over to his favourite tree, lying beneath it and closing his eyes. Merlin had only fainted. It was nothing serious. He would be _fine_.

"Bloody hell, it's more like an episode of Casualty around here than Bake Off," said Gwaine, plonking himself noisily down beside Arthur. "Poor old Merlin, anyone would think he was pregnant with all that fainting like a maiden."

Arthur wasn't sure Gwaine's talking about pregnancy and sending Arthur's thoughts in the direction of his half-sister was a welcome development or not. At least it meant he wasn't thinking about Merlin for a few moments at least.

"Who do you think might go this week?" Gwaine continued, lying down. "I hope it's Cenred. You'd never know if you look at him, but he's really a terrible lay—"

"When did _that_ happen?" Arthur snapped, suddenly furious on Morgana's behalf. He sat up and glared down at Gwaine. "Is there anyone you _don't_hit on?"

Gwaine opened one lazy eye. "Easy there, Princess. Cenred was last night and I've never had a go at Merlin if that's what you mean… he was too young when I first met him back when I met Lance, and Lance has got this big brother thing going on with him so I—" Gwaine froze, probably due to the expression on Arthur's face, and opened the other eye. "Oh, so it's _not_ about Merlin. Are you annoyed that I would have a go at you and then try someone else so soon afterwards, because I tell you, Cenred being in that lift was like a gift from— Oh that reminds me, Merlin owes me… no, dammit, that bet was only for the first weekend. Oh well, I guess _I_ owe him."

"God, Gwaine, do you ever listen to yourself?"

"What are you getting at if it's not about you _or_ Merlin?" He closed his eyes and wriggled to get comfortable, hands pillowing his head.

Arthur sighed and lay back down, mirroring Gwaine's position. "Do you want children one day?"

"You really are a conundrum, Pendragon," Gwaine said, obviously baffled at Arthur's change of tack. "If you really want to know though, yes, I'd love to be a father one day. Wouldn't you?"

Arthur's mind immediately conjured up a dark haired blue eyed child, a mini version of Merlin and he scowled. "It's possible. I'm too gay to have one the conventional way, but yes, I think I'd like kids."

They fell into silence. Arthur began to fret over what was happening with Merlin, was it just a simple faint or was there more to it than that? What if there was something seriously wrong with him?

"Hey, you two," came Leon's voice. "It's time to get back on set. Merlin's back in the land of the living."

Arthur followed Leon back to the marquee, Gwaine by his side, and found Merlin sitting on one of the chairs outside in the staff area watching their approach. He still looked pale, making the red of his lips stand out in harsh contrast. Arthur scanned his face as Merlin glanced between himself and Gwaine, eyes narrowing. "You two should probably go and see Helen," he said, standing. "You've both got bed hair."

Gwaine sniggered and said, "You two are impossible."

Arthur ignored him and followed Merlin into the marquee.

::::

"Merlin, come on, we'll be late," Lance called, looking impatiently at his watch and looking hopefully up the stairs as if that would make Merlin magically appear.

Merlin had spent all afternoon making a huge chocolate and beetroot cake for Mithian's birthday, followed by frenzy of raspberry cupcakes and blackberry and apple pies that he claimed he would send in a taxi to the homeless shelter later that day, but right in that moment he'd simply _had to bake_.

When Merlin went into one of his frequent episodes, Lance knew better than try to distract him. Usually he sampled too many of Merlin's cakes and ended up with a sugar high followed by an almighty headache as he crashed but had managed to resist today because of the evening out ahead.

Merlin appeared at the top of the stairs, all traces of flour and frenzied dishevelment gone. His hair was mussed as it usually was, a style that looked as though Merlin had spent a while getting right but which Lance knew was how it had dried after Merlin got out of the shower. He wore tight jeans and a fitted blue t-shirt that matched his eyes. Lance thought he looked sixteen again, the boy he had first met huddled bleary eyed in that park, lost and vulnerable.

Merlin picked up the cake and they hailed a cab on the main road. Merlin turned his attention to world outside of the car. Lance nudged him and said, "You're worrying me here. You're _never_ this quiet."

Merlin turned towards him and smiled a smile that a bereaved man offered to mourners at a loved one's funeral. "I'm fine, honestly." He bit his lip. "I just—" He broke off with an apologetic shrug.

Lance raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Something had shifted behind Merlin's eyes and he had been unusually quiet all week. He'd barely said a word in the car on the way back from Bath on Sunday. Mithian had chattered on about her birthday meal, Lance had made listening noises and when he looked in the rear view mirror at Merlin it was to find him staring out of the window at the passing scenery, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

"You're one to talk anyway," Merlin said then, smoothing his hands over the lid of the cake box on his lap and raising questioning eyes to Lance's. "_You_ haven't been yourself either. Is there something you want to talk about?"

Lance held Merlin's gaze, his heart hammering. It was easy to forget how astute Merlin could be. Lance had made the same mistake once before and could kick himself for making it again. He didn't bother with denials, but he wasn't about to confirm, there in the back of a taxi on the way to Mithian's birthday dinner, what he knew Merlin was alluding to. "Not right now, no," he said, shaking his head. Gwen. Sefa. Gwen. Sefa. Gwen. Gwen. Gwen. Lance's head was spinning and all over a girl he barely knew beyond a couple of shared pots of tea in the Bake Off hotel.

"Fair enough," Merlin said and dipped head. "It's not like I understand matters of the heart anyway, is it?"

_Probably not_, Lance thought to himself, _but you know enough to have guessed that's what is on my mind_. Merlin was like a tornado when it came to his own love life. Lance had thought what he felt for Sefa was love, but he hadn't met Gwen then. Now he was questioning everything that he held true and it scared the shit out of him because this wasn't like him at all.

The cab pulled up in front of Odette's and Merlin's, "For feck's sake," drew Lance's thoughts away from Gwen and Sefa and to the half a dozen or so paparazzi that awaited them on the pavement.

"They could be here for someone else," Lance said, hopefully as Merlin opened handed the driver a note and opened the door.

He pushed his way past the photographers as their flashes went off in his face and one of them shouted, "Merlin, are you and Percival back together?" Lance's vague hope that perhaps someone more newsworthy was in inside—other than the other Bake Off hosts—faded and he followed Merlin on his path towards the restaurant.

One pap took his photograph as another called, "Who's this one then? Is he your latest squeeze, Merlin? Merlin!"

Lance closed the restaurant door behind him with relish and went to meet his friends.

::::

Arthur hovered by the bar in Odette's, observing Mithian's friends as they settled themselves into their desired seats around the table of fifteen that was set up near the window. Merlin, having arrived in a flurry of flashbulbs, was now sitting beside Lance with his back to the window with one of Mithian's housemates—Sarah?—sitting beside him and chattering his ear off. Merlin was nodding and laughing with her. Arthur looked away and made his way to the other end of the table, arriving at the same time as Gwaine.

Gwaine made the rounds of the table, hugging and kissing people in turn before flopping down in the seat beside Arthur. "When are we ordering?" he said, rubbing his belly. "I'm Hank Marvin."

Arthur ignored the question and said, "How's the new show going?" As well as Bake Off, Gwaine was working on a live Friday night chat show for Channel 4. It was due to air in a few weeks' time, the week after the Bake Off final and Gwaine had already asked Arthur if he would appear as a guest on the first show and Arthur had reluctantly agreed. He expected that the show would be a resounding success because Gwaine was a born showman and people loved talking to him.

"So far so good," Gwaine replied. He lowered his voice, "I don't mind admitting that I'm getting a bit nervous about it now. This is all on me, solo, and _live_—what if I fuck it up?"

"With the gift of the gab like you've got, mate, I doubt you need to worry," Arthur said and meant every word. "Maybe just refrain from hitting on _all_of the guests."

Gwaine slung an arm around his neck and pulled Arthur close, kissing his forehead with a loud 'mwah'. "I love you, Princess," he said, ruffling his hair and releasing him to reach for his beer.

Arthur ran his fingers through his hair to undo any damage Gwaine might have wrought and looked up to find Merlin staring at him. His heart clenched. When Merlin saw he'd been rumbled he smiled at Arthur, a tight, uncomfortable grimace really, and looked away, turning to say something to Lance who rolled his eyes and reached for a menu which he handed to Merlin.

"Hiiii, I'm Lulu," said a ditzy looking blonde as she dropped into the chair beside Arthur. She half reminded him of his ex-fiancé and good friend Elena. "You're Arthur, right? I _love_ the show but it's making me so _fat_." She pinched the non-existent roll of her stomach and raised an eyebrow that said, _I dare you agree with me_.

"Yes, hello, nice to meet you, Lulu," Arthur said politely, wishing he'd given Mithian the excuse that had been on the tip of his tongue when she'd issued the invitation. Arthur wanted to be anywhere else but in this restaurant, trapped between the man who didn't yet know he'd impregnated Arthur's sister and this woman he didn't know at all and didn't really want to and all the while with an unblemished view of the man he was in love with who was only interested in him for the sex, when at all.

"When Mithian told me you'd be here I—"

"Excuse me," Arthur cut in, making a snap decision. "I'm not feeling too well. I think I'm going to have to go home." He pushed his chair back, nodded at Gwaine who had overheard and was looking at him with knowing eyes and went to make his apologies to Mithian.

He made it outside in one piece, pausing on the pavement to draw a deep breath before heading in the direction of a taxi rank as there was no sign of any cabs on the road.

"Arthur, wait."

Arthur stopped dead. He turned around. "Lance," he acknowledged with a nod. Arthur really liked Lance and considered him a friend, but since it all went to shit with Merlin he hadn't sought him out unless it was a group thing. He was certain Lance knew all about what had happened with him and Merlin, and where Gwaine had put two and two together and made four, Lance had the answer sheet.

"Is everything alright?" Lance asked.

Arthur rocked onto his heels. "Yep, everything's fine. I just have a headache that's all. I wouldn't be much company tonight."

Lance's gaze seemed to burn into him. "Don't be too hard on Merlin," he said, this expression betraying his regret at speaking the words. "He's—"

"Is this to do with the show?"

"No. I—"

"Then unless you have problem with how we interact on camera, I don't want to hear it." Arthur's fictional headache was rapidly manifesting into reality. "I'll catch up with you on Friday." He nodded at Lance and hailed the cab that had just rounded the corner with the light on. Lance stood on the pavement as the cab walked away, his expression a mixture of concern and annoyance.

Arthur couldn't bring himself to care.


	6. Chapter 6

The weeks crept by with painful slowness. Arthur didn't speak to Merlin unless they were on camera or in a production meeting and they hadn't been pulled up by Leon again as on camera they had maintained their chemistry. Merlin was amazed when watching the show back on Tuesday nights that his banter with Arthur didn't look tense or awkward as though when the camera rolled everything else fell away.

By the end of week seven, there were just five bakers left in the competition: Edwin, Gwen, Tristan, Cenred, and Isolde. In an unexpected twist that no one had seen coming, Isolde and Tristan had announced their intentions to marry after, in their words, realising they were 'soulmates'. Merlin had struggled not to roll his eyes when they had made their announcement. People were so gullible… so stupid.

The wedding was to be the following weekend, on the Saturday evening, at the Bake Off hotel, and Merlin had immediately offered to make the cake. The production team had crashed in and decided to make a wedding themed episode, changing the technical bake into wedding themed patisserie and asking the bakers to give their Showstoppers a wedding-y twist.

An 'emergency meeting' was called on the Friday before the wedding.

It seemed that Arthur and Gwaine still had a thing going on. Merlin watched them laughing together at the opposite end of the conference table with a hollow feeling in his chest. They were always together, and even when they weren't, when Gwaine was just being Gwaine and flirting with anyone with a pulse, Merlin included, Merlin had to force his laughter, hating Gwaine for having Arthur when he didn't. And wasn't that just fucked up for a man that thought love was a joke? For a man who had had Arthur in his grasp, and had thrown him away? Why was he only now realising or rather, admitting, that perhaps Arthur was worth keeping around long term, that he'd made a huge mistake? Ever since their night together when he'd realised he'd wanted to _wake up_ with Arthur he'd been lost at sea because the craving and the need he felt for him wasn't a new thing and it had scared him so much last year that he'd bolted, thinking it would go away if it was starved.

Now it was too late.

Merlin tried not to imagine Arthur and Gwaine together and some of the time he succeeded. Sex had always been a good panacea… no, a _great_ one as it made him forget without the need for drugs or alcohol, always had, and now would be a good time to go and find some of that. Not Percival, it wouldn't be fair on him again when he'd made it clear he wanted more from Merlin, but perhaps one of the others. Yet, when Merlin found himself shoved back against the back of his hotel door last week by the cute room service guy, Owain, and being thoroughly kissed, Merlin had shoved back and told him to leave. Not so long ago, Merlin would have reciprocated without conscience.

Merlin hadn't been celibate for as long as three weeks since he was sixteen and for the first time, he wasn't rushing to do something about it and that in itself scared him.

"Okay," Leon said, handing out schedules around the table. "I know that this is a change to the original plan but we couldn't let this wedding pass by without acknowledging it, even if it is possibly the most whirlwind wedding I've ever heard of. It also adds an exciting edge to the show because both Isolde and Tristan are still competing against one another. Merlin, how's the cake coming along?"

Merlin had arrived early on that Friday morning to get started on the cake for the following day. Due to the timescale, it wasn't going to be a traditional fruit wedding cake, or even look like one. Isolde had asked for an orange berry cake and the rest was up to Merlin. "It's all going to plan," Merlin said, thinking of the sponges he'd left to cool before the meeting. Myror had been filming him making the cake on a handheld camera to make it into a kind of home movie feature to edit into the show for Tuesday. "Of course, it's the cake decoration that'll take the time this afternoon." If things had been different Merlin would have asked Arthur for help but as it was, he was on his own and as lovely as the crew were, none of them other than Arthur knew what they were doing with a cake tin in their hands.

"Good stuff, Merlin," Leon said with a smile and moved on to talk about putting together a wedding montage for the happy couple's romance. Merlin tried not to let it show on his face exactly what a farce he thought the whole whirlwind wedding thing was. Mithian, on the other hand, thought it was incredibly romantic and had appointed herself as Isolde's wedding planner, claiming she had to get her romance from somewhere seeing as her own love life was flatter than Salisbury Plain. She had scolded Merlin for being such a cynic and refused to be drawn into a wager with Gwaine on whether the marriage would last until the end of the series.

The meeting ended and Merlin returned to the judges' kitchen to finish the wedding cake, followed by Myror and Bob the sound guy. Merlin rolled up his sleeves and set about making the chocolate modelling paste, immediately entering what he called his baker zone where he would get engrossed in the art, ingredients laid out before him.

He was concentrating on the paste, mixing the ingredients into the bowl, when he felt a hand on his left shoulder then someone's chin resting on the right one. He turned, annoyed, and found Arthur. At the same time he realised that Myror was filming them, Arthur's smile only looked forced to Merlin who saw the cold look in his eyes.

"What do you think you're doing?" Merlin gritted out between his teeth, not even able to muster a fake smile for the sake of the camera and why should he? It wasn't as though the show was filmed live and this part could be edited out.

"I'm here to offer my assistance," Arthur said, looking up and winking at the camera. "Where do you want me?"

To his annoyance, Merlin's mind went straight the gutter. Obviously his sexual frustration was more acute in Arthur's presence. "Um—" He stopped whisking and indicated the ingredients stacked at the other end of the table. "I wouldn't say no to some help with the crème. If you think you're up to the job, that is." He added the challenge in the interests of keeping up banter between them for the sake of the audience. Arthur wouldn't even be talking to him if the camera wasn't on. As it was, Arthur's hand was still on his shoulder and it was making Merlin lightheaded.

Arthur didn't seem to notice when he replied, "Anything for you, Merlin, you know that." He gave Merlin's shoulder a squeeze and moved to work on the crème. What followed were a couple of hours of Merlin's personal hell. It just felt so _domestic_, working alongside Arthur, chatting to him for the sake of the camera like there wasn't an ocean of bitterness between them.

It was hell, yes, but heaven too. When the cake was decorated, the camera was off, and the door behind Myror and Bob was closed, Merlin said without thinking, "I enjoyed this afternoon, Arthur."

Arthur was wiping clean the work surface. He paused and looked at Merlin with a thoughtful expression. "Yeah, me too, it's good to just get stuck in without having to stop and start for the cameras."

"No, I mean, yes that's good too, but I meant working with you."

Arthur resumed his cleaning, returning his gaze to his task. "I'm not falling for it again, Merlin."

"Falling for what?"

Arthur lifted his gaze again, this time the blue eyes were accusing. "If you want a shag then you'll have to wait until Edwin arrives tomorrow."

"Edwin? What—?"

"I saw in the papers that Boy wonder is in Scandinavia or somewhere and seeing as you can't go five minutes without a fuck, I figured you had to be getting it somewhere and then I saw Edwin leaving your hotel room last Sunday morning." Arthur threw down his cloth. "You'd better hope the press doesn't get wind of it because it could be considered favouritism if he wins. "Arthur's expression was full of disgust for Merlin.

"I can go _longer than five minutes_, and he wasn't _leaving my room_ because he never even made it over the threshold!" Merlin found himself saying through gritted teeth. He had actually forgotten Edwin's visit had even happened. Edwin had knocked the door claiming he wanted to ask for Merlin's advice about this Technical Challenge and Merlin had told him that he couldn't offer advice as he had to be impartial. He'd then called Leon to let him know and Leon had had a warning word with Edwin before filming started that morning. "You're one to talk. You and Gwaine have been all over one another for weeks."

Arthur snorted. "You think I'm shagging Gwaine?"

"Are you telling me you're not?"

"I'm not telling you anything, Merlin. Believe what you want if it makes you feel better but know this, I'm nothing like you. I don't give it up for every pretty face that crosses my path."

"You make it sound as though having a sex life is a crime."

"Then you're not listening."

Merlin closed his eyes, stomach twisting. "I wasn't saying I enjoyed this afternoon because I was trying to bag you again." He picked up the cake and carried over to the fridge freezer in the corner. He turned to face Arthur. "I have no idea where Percival is, I broke things off with him for good weeks ago. I don't _do—_"

"And I'm not doing this conversation anymore," Arthur interrupted. He turned when he reached the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The door clicked closed behind him. Merlin stood there for a few long minutes before retreating to the sofa in the corner and sinking down onto it with his head in his hands. He was teetotal, but God, he could do with a drink.

::::

Arthur left the kitchen and headed for the hotel bar. He wasn't even sure what had just happened. All he knew is that he couldn't be near Merlin without either wanting to kiss him or kill him and that tended to end up in him saying and doing nothing at all out of self-preservation. Once the cameras were off, Arthur should simply have left. Instead he'd left himself open.

It was laughable that Merlin had got it into his head that Arthur was with Gwaine. True, they were spending more time together, for Arthur's part he'd been standing guard over Gwaine, not realising it entirely until Gwaine had pointed it out last week following is discovery of his impending fatherhood. "At least this explains why you've been glued to my side for weeks," Gwaine had said the first time he saw Arthur at the hotel after his visit from Morgana, breaking out into an unstoppable grin. "Jesus, Arthur, I'm going to be a _father_!" And that had been that discussion over with, typical Gwaine really.

It had been the Sunday morning as he was heading outside for a walk around the lake before filming started that he'd seen Edwin, all pink cheeked, closing the door of Merlin's hotel room. What else was he supposed to think?

Arthur had drowned himself in whisky when he got home the following day explaining to Basil just how angry he was that Merlin would sleep with one of the contestants and put the show's integrity in question. The cat had fixed Arthur with his unblinking stare and Arthur had groaned and said, "Okay, okay, I'm so jealous I'm sick with it. I want to rip off Edwin's head with my own bare hands." Basil had curled into his side and Arthur had finally dozed on the sofa to the sound of his contented purring.

Could it really be that Edwin's flushed cheeks were the result of being sent away with his tail between his legs? If so it served the bastard right.

None of the contestants or crew was in the hotel bar that Friday night. Most of the contestants were arriving tomorrow morning as they'd been given the extra time to amend their Showstoppers to be wedding themed and Arthur had turned down an invite to go into Bath with the crew for a meal, something he was now regretting when the door to the bar opened and framed a lone Merlin.

Every time Arthur saw Merlin, it was like a punch in the gut. He wondered if he'd ever stop wanting him. Merlin caught sight of him at the bar and hesitated, glancing around for the others and finding no one. His attention returned to Arthur, seeming to lose a battle with himself when he started to approach.

He drew to a halt in front of Arthur. "I just want this to stop," he said, licking his lips and gesturing between them. "There was a time when we got on so well and—"

Arthur followed the path of Merlin's tongue hungrily and made a decision then that he knew without a doubt that he would regret but he'd tried it the other way and it wasn't working. "Let's take a walk outside," he said, nodding in the direction of the open patio doors, curtains blowing gently in the breeze. The sun was setting and dusk was on its way. He hopped down from his stool and headed for the door without checking that Merlin was following. He didn't stop walking until he reached the lake, sitting down on the grass slope and feeling Merlin settle down beside him.

They stayed in silence for a while, listening to the birds and insects and to the trickle of the small waterfall somewhere out of their line of sight.

Eventually Arthur found the words. "You said no to Edwin—"

"Arthur, he never even _asked_—"

"—but that isn't going to stop them knocking," Arthur continued. "If sex is all you want, then have it with me." He didn't look at Merlin for his reaction.

"But you said—"

"I know what I said. This is what I'm saying _now_. Yes or no?"

The air was thick with tension until Merlin finally said, voice husky, "Yes."

Arthur released the breath he was holding. "Just to clarify though, I expect you to be faithful to me while this lasts. When you decide you don't want to be with me, or vice versa, we end it and you're free to move on. I won't be screwed around on, are we clear?"

Merlin dipped his head. "We're clear."

"Good. On Monday we both get tested. Think you can go without until the results are in?"

"I'm not a fucking animal in heat, Arthur," Merlin snapped. "Of course I can."

"Right, well, we'll talk on Monday then." Arthur pushed himself to his feet and hurried back to his room without saying goodbye, not trusting himself to give in to his own impatience. He needed some time to himself to process what he had just got himself into, and why. He also wanted Merlin to have a cooling off period.

The whole steering clear of Merlin when they had to work together every weekend didn't working, he couldn't turn his feelings off, hadn't been able to after the first time Merlin broke things off, couldn't now. He knew it was a stupid idea and that he was possibly setting himself up for more heartbreak, but at least this way—for a while at least—he wouldn't have to suffer seeing Merlin with other people every time he passed a newsstand.

He took a cool shower and lay naked on his bed before rummaging in his discarded jeans for his phone and calling Morgana. "Do you still want me to come for the scan with you on Tuesday?" he asked after the pleasantries were out of the way. "Or will Gwaine be taking you?"

Morgana sighed. "I haven't told him about it yet, but he's being such a sweetheart about everything, I think I better had. Can you be on standby?"

Gwaine had been treating Morgana like she was made of glass since she'd told him she was having his baby. It was all very matter of fact between them, no talk of getting together for the sake of the baby, something that Uther would certainly have something to say on when he found out. Gwaine's obvious joy at Morgana's pregnancy despite the circumstances was actually rather heart-warming.

"Course I can," Arthur agreed, half hoping that Gwaine wouldn't be able to make the scan so he could go along and see his niece or nephew for the first time as it was unlikely he'd ever be in that situation as the father of the child with someone else.

They talked for a while longer and when Arthur ended the call he put the phone onto charge and crawled under the thin duvet. For the first time in weeks sleep came easily.

::::

Merlin clutched the slip of paper that declared he was STD free like it was his lifeline. He'd known it would be clear, he'd had a lot of partners but he'd never taken risks. Even Will had been careful. He found his way into the nearest Costa, ordered himself a large mocha and texted Arthur, one word, _clear_. His reply was a few minutes in arriving. _Ditto. Half 7 at mine_. Merlin replied with an affirmative and sipped his drink, his heart pounding heavily and drowning out the noise of the nearby coffee machine.

When Arthur had made his offer, Merlin had nearly said no. In fact, even as lips had formed the word 'yes', Merlin's brain was screaming no no _no_. Arthur had said, 'If sex is all you want then have it with me' and logically there was no reason to say no. Arthur _wasn't_ screwing Gwaine. Arthur still wanted Merlin and God knew Merlin couldn't stop thinking about Arthur.

Arthur had turned the tables on him. Arthur only wanted a sexual relationship and it was Merlin who now realised he needed more than that from Arthur, something more long term.

He'd spent Saturday night on the sofa in his room watching whatever passed for summertime Saturday night entertainment on the telly and ignoring the messages from Percival that were building up on his phone again. _i luv u, give me a chance_ and _we can slo down if tht wht u wnt_. He wondered why they all said they loved him, what was there to love? He was a fucked up mess, always had been. He'd slept with more people than he could remember, he was used and dirty and _second hand_. Merlin felt like a total shit when he eventually he replied, _sorry, seeing someone else now_ and Percival had stopped texting.

Even Lance, who Merlin knew for certain only had platonic feelings for him, did more for him than Merlin had any right to expect and Merlin was grateful for it but he didn't understand why.

Sunday night, with Lance having an early night, Merlin had stayed up to the early hours re-watching the last couple of episodes from the current series, pausing it when Arthur had come to help him prepare the wedding cake and had rested his head on his shoulder, faking it for the camera. Only hours after that and they'd come to their new agreement.

Merlin spent the rest of Monday working on the new café's business plan, trying not to think about the evening ahead. He only took a break long enough to call Lance to tell him he wouldn't be in that night and to check how he was, wondering if Lance was ever going to confide in him about Gwen. When the time finally arrived to leave for Arthur's, Merlin had cleared all of his much hated paperwork, parked his concerns about Lance for another day and made himself ready for Arthur.

Arthur buzzed Merlin up and held open his front door silently. He looked divine even in a pair of dark grey joggers and black t-shirt but then Merlin couldn't recall a time when he hadn't looked good enough to eat. Merlin walked through to the living room and waited for Arthur to follow. "Can I get you a drink?" Arthur asked, hovering in the doorway. Merlin nodded and watched Arthur disappear into the kitchen, head popping back around the door to ask, "Apple juice alright?"

Merlin nodded and sat down on sofa. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a ginger and white cat leapt up onto the arm beside him and proceeded to look at him with unfathomable eyes. "When did you get a cat?" Merlin asked when Arthur came back into the room. Last year, when Merlin had visited Arthur's place several times, there had not been a cat in residence. Merlin glanced back at the cat whose glassy eyes were still fixed upon him.

"Basil moved in last year after— after the last series wrapped." Arthur handed Merlin a glass of amber juice and scratched the cat behind the ears with his freed hand. The cat pushed his head into Arthur's palm but didn't take his eyes off Merlin.

"Why's he staring at me like that?"

"Oh, well, Basil has heard all about you." Arthur sat down beside Merlin and Basil immediately clambered over Merlin to settle in Arthur's lap, purring loudly.

Merlin shifted uncomfortably. "I'm lucky he hasn't scratched my eyes out already, then." Jesus, this was a bad idea. What the hell was he thinking, restarting his thing with Arthur again? It couldn't end well. After all, everything he touched in his personal life turned to shit.

He was just going to have to enjoy it for a long as it lasted and hope that Arthur didn't tire of him too quickly because Merlin was very much afraid that he would never make the mistake of thinking he'd tired of Arthur again.

::::

Arthur saw the sudden panic in Merlin's eyes. He leant over and took the glass of juice from Merlin's hand and put it out of the way on the coffee table. Basil meowed mournfully and jumped to the floor to stalk away. Merlin looked at Arthur and the air stilled around them. Arthur slid his hand along Merlin's denim clad leg, dipping down between, eyes fixed on Merlin. Merlin swallowed, licked his lips and in one heartbeat, moved to straddle Arthur.

Merlin cupped Arthur's face and kissed him, their tongues sliding together in a desperation that was alien to Arthur. Arthur cupped his hands around Merlin's buttocks, straining up towards him, loving the feel of Merlin's thighs encasing him. He knew what he wanted more than anything in that moment and hoped Merlin was on the same page.

"You're hungry for it. So am I," Merlin said, pulling out of the kiss for a moment. He backed up then, sliding off Arthur's lap to the floor and parting his knees to kneel between them. "I know what you want." He knelt back on his heels and yanked his t-shirt up over his head, tossing it to one side. Arthur hungrily took in the full length of the tattoo and the enticing jut of Merlin's hip bones.

Arthur, trying to act calmer than he felt, leant back against the cushions and placed his hands on his knees and said, "Do it then."

Merlin reached in and lowered the waistband of Arthur's trousers, grinning when Arthur's half hard cock sprang free. "Commando, Arthur? Assuming I was a sure thing?"

"I never assume anything with you."

Merlin hummed and feasted his eyes Arthur's cock as it grew in length under his gaze. Licking his lips again he went in, sucking the head lightly and jabbing his tongue into the underside, just as he must remember that Arthur loved as he was especially sensitive there. Arthur moaned with pleasure and wound a hand into Merlin's soft dark hair, tightening his grip when Merlin flicked his tongue and for a second Arthur saw stars.

Merlin smiled wickedly around Arthur's cock and swallowed him whole. Arthur bucked upwards in delight and Merlin merely raised his lashes and stared up at him, nodding almost imperceptibly at him and Arthur knew it was permission for him to fuck his mouth.

Arthur dropped his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. He tightened his hand in Merlin's hair and thrust upwards tentatively and when Merlin didn't gag, he did it again, and again and fuccck, Merlin's mouth was a thing of magic. When Merlin pressed his palm flat against Arthur's thigh to temper Arthur's thrusts and pulled back, Arthur thrust upwards into thin air with a disappointed whine.

Merlin stood then, kicking his jeans and underwear off, the perfect length of his cock standing invitingly to attention before Arthur's greedy gaze. "You were right to assume I was a sure thing," he said, reaching between his legs and coming back with a neon blue butt plug. Arthur nearly came there and then.

Merlin crawled back onto Arthur's lap and without preamble, lined up Arthur's cock and sank down on it. Arthur didn't think he'd ever seen anything so hot in all of his twenty-nine years as Merlin lubed and ready for him, sitting on his cock, with no barrier between them, bare as the day they he was born.

Arthur closed his hands around Merlin's hipbones on both sides as Merlin leant in to kiss him, the filthy slide of his tongue against Arthur's, his breathing heavy and then he began to move, riding Arthur's cock with painful slowness, one, two, three, four times, then leaning backwards, long length of his throat exposed for Arthur to bury his teeth into as he began to move faster, five, six, seven… Faster, faster, groans that should be illegal escaping between his kiss swollen lips, Arthur's fingers digging deeper, staring down at Merlin's cock as it bounced between them, releasing his grip on a hipbone and taking Merlin in hand to stroke him in time with Merlin's rhythm.

"Arthur, fuck," Merlin groaned, increasing his speed. "_Fuck_."

Arthur could feel his orgasm building, creeping up through every nerve ending, he lost his concentration, his hand around Merlin's cock slowing as sensation took over and he came hard.

"Oh fuck," Merlin said, batting Arthur's hand away and beginning to strip his own cock, one, two, three. He buried his face in Arthur's neck, his breath on Arthur's earlobe and came, coating both of their stomachs in come. "Arthur… God."

Arthur didn't have the energy to make the obvious retort to that. The two of them stayed in that position for several minutes until it became uncomfortable. Merlin lifted himself gingerly off Arthur's lap and Arthur watched in rapt fascination as his own come trickled down Merlin's inner thigh. The stab of possession in that moment was intense and just as keenly followed by protectiveness. "Come on," he said, holding out his hand for Merlin to pull him to his feet. "We need a shower."

Merlin, looking utterly fucked out and utterly perfect in Arthur's eyes, took Arthur's hand and when they were both face to face leant in to kiss him chastely before leading him from the room.

Arthur really didn't think he was going to survive another rejection from Merlin when it inevitably came. He really was his own worst enemy.

He expected Merlin to be gone when he awoke the following morning—just as he always had been in the past, apart from that one time—but when he opened his eyes Merlin was still there, fast asleep in the bed beside him. He looked younger in his sleep, like jailbait, his long lashes fluttering as he slumbered. Arthur's heart constricted.

Arthur forced himself to look away, rolling out of bed and padding into the bathroom. As he stood under the shower he closed his eyes and leant back against the tiles. What the heck was he doing this to himself again for? He wasn't even fooling himself.

Merlin was like a drug, a habit Arthur couldn't kick no matter how bad it was for him or how much he _wanted_ to be free from the craving.

"Do you want me to wash your back?"

Arthur's eyes flew open. Merlin grinned back at him, waggling his eyebrows. Arthur couldn't help his return smile as he stood to one side to allow Merlin to step in beside him.


	7. Chapter 7

By the penultimate weekend's shoot, Arthur and Merlin had only spent one night apart and that had been because Morgana had wanted Arthur's support when she broke the news of her pregnancy to Uther. Merlin had considered offering to wait at Arthur's for his return but that was something that boyfriends did, not whatever it was he and Arthur were at the moment. Lovers? Fuck buddies?

Merlin couldn't think about that _now_ though. He ran through the hotel grounds and found Lance and Gwen sitting on a bench in the middle of the knot garden and skidded to a halt, his breath heavy. Merlin hadn't imagined Lance's growing feelings for Gwen as he had half hoped because. Lance had never confirmed his suspicions and Merlin had been so caught up in Arthur he hadn't pursued it. He found Lance and Gwen holding hands.

"Lance—" Merlin wheezed, causing Gwen and Lance to release their hold on one another. He hated being the one to drop the bombshell, "Sefa's here."

Lance sometimes treated Merlin like the little brother he needed to protect from the world and didn't always give Merlin the credit he deserved as a fully grown adult with insight and a protective instinct of his own. He'd seen how Lance looked at Gwen Smith, the teacher from Devon who was one of the Bake Off's front runners. He'd seen the two of them sharing pots of tea in the lunch breaks and sitting by the lake deep in conversation as the sun went down. He'd heard Lance's phone beeping with an almost constant stream of text messages when Lance was usually one of those people who never knows where their phone even _is_ outside of work.

Gwen and Lance sprang apart, Gwen's eyes wide with horror and Lance's full of what looked like remorse. "Where is she?" Lance asked, nearly jumping to his feet.

"She's in the bar talking to Arthur and Gwaine," Merlin said, glancing at Gwen and back to Lance. "I told her I'd track you down." Merlin chose not to elaborate on how he'd known where they would be.

"Right, great, well—" Lance looked towards Gwen, uncertain.

"I'll walk back to the hotel with Gwen," Merlin said not even able to muster a half-smile. He was very fond of Sefa, had known her almost as long as he had known Lance as they'd been a couple for a long time, but Sefa obviously wasn't the key to Lance's happiness; Gwen was. Lance would not be behaving as he had been if his feelings towards Gwen were not… significant.

"Thanks, Merlin," Lance said and with an apologetic glance at Gwen he broke into a jog back up in the direction of the hotel.

Merlin looked sideways a Gwen who looked as though she was about to burst into tears. "Are you alright?" Merlin asked softly. He liked Gwen. In fact, she was his favourite of all the bakers, his most likely to win. Arthur had claimed earlier that day that he favoured Tristan for the winner. Without waiting for Gwen to reply, Merlin said, "How about we take a stroll?"

Gwen nodded, lip trembling, and Merlin broke his own 'no touching' rule and took her elbow, leading her down to the lake, checking over his shoulder as he did so. He didn't want to be seen walking alone with her because unlike Lance, he was in the position to affect Gwen's stay on the show and he didn't want it to look as though he was favouring any one baker.

"I—" Gwen began eventually. "Nothing's happened between Lance and I."

They had reached the tiny copse of trees that shaded part of the lake's bank. Merlin let go of Gwen's elbow and sat down, crossing his legs beneath him. Gwen hesitated and followed. Merlin waited for her to settle before he said, "Lance is my best friend. He is literally _the_ best. If he's holding your hand, then—let's just say he means it, yeah?"

Gwen sniffed and rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palms. "I don't, I mean I never meant for—" Her voice caught in her throat and the tears she'd been fighting back began to flow. Merlin shifted closer and patted her back consolingly, feeling awkward and uncomfortable about the whole encounter. After some minutes when she had gathered herself and her breathing had evened out she said, "Thank you."

Wordlessly they made their way back to the hotel, walking apart in the fading light. Merlin expected to find some of the crew still in the hotel bar and he was right. Gwaine, Myror and Leon were there with a bemused looking Nimueh and a very sozzled Helen sitting between them, obviously telling them a joke if the sudden burst of raucous laughter was anything to go by. Merlin caught Gwen's eye and by silent agreement they diverted their path and headed to the lifts. They said an awkward goodbye when Gwen got out at her floor and Merlin headed to his own room, hoping Arthur would be waiting for him.

Instead he found Lance sitting on the floor outside his door, red eyed and pale. When he heard Merlin's approach he got to his feet and stood aside for Merlin to open the door. Merlin gestured for Lance to precede him into the room and followed him in.

"Drink?" Merlin asked, opening the mini bar and taking a beer for Lance and a bottle of water for himself. At Lance's nod he opened the beer with the device on the fridge door and handed it over. "Shall we—" He nodded at the sofa in the window, not waiting for Lance's reply before he chose the furthest seat for himself.

He watched as Lance settled himself, trying not to let his concern for him reflect too obviously on his face. Lance didn't look at him and waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.

"What am I going to do?" Lance said eventually, still staring at the floor and chewing his lip. "Gwen—nothing has happened with us, just tonight when I held her hand and now Sefa's asleep in my room—she just flew in from LA—and I— Merlin, how do I tell her?"

"Tell her what, Lance?" Merlin prompted even though he knew the answer.

"How do I tell her I met someone else?" Lance's expression crumpled. "Oh God. Sefa. We've been together since school. I do love her, just, I didn't know that I _could_ feel like I do for Gwen, like I've found my soulmate, you know?"

Merlin couldn't help his grimace. Of course _he_ didn't know. Lance was still looking a fixed point in the carpet and didn't notice Merlin's expression. "If Gwen makes your heart race, if she feels like home and you can't imagine life without her, then it's simple really, isn't it?" Lance raised his gaze and locked eyes with Merlin. "Sefa is going to be hurt, there's no getting around that, but you're just going to have to tell her the truth."

Lance nodded. "You're right. I just needed to hear you say it I think."

Merlin shuffled down the sofa and nudged Lance fondly. Lance sank his head onto Merlin's shoulder with a huff of breath. They stayed there for several minutes, the only sounds being their own breathing and the occasional animal cry from the woodland beyond.

"Arthur's in love with you," Lance said without warning. "If you _can_ imagine life without him then don't prolong this renewed thing you've got with him and let him go. If—and I'm certain that I'm right—you love him, then just— I can't bear to watch you punishing yourself, Merlin."

Merlin pulled away and stood, moving to stand by the window where he stared out at the remnants of the sunset over the hotel grounds. "I don't love him." He turned and fixed his eyes on Lance. Merlin felt sick. How could he _love_ Arthur when he didn't even believe in the concept? "I don't."

Lance's expression was sad. "Then let him go."

::::

It was the Wednesday of the week before the Bake Off final was to be filmed when the Daily Mirror dropped the bomb. There were three finalists — Gwen, Cenred, and Tristan. Tristan was the bookies' favourite. Arthur, Merlin, Mithian and Gwaine were doing the rounds of the television publicity and Merlin and Gwaine had been on the Radio 1 breakfast show with Grimmy the previous day and Arthur had listened to them as he munched his breakfast, Basil asleep beside him.

Arthur was on his way to a production meeting for his other show, sitting on the tube reading and re-reading all the advertisements that adorned the carriage, wishing he'd remembered to bring a book or buy a paper, when he caught sight of the headlines on the front of someone's Daily Mirror. _Bake Off star Merlin debauched my son and drove him to suicide_.

Arthur got off the tube at the next stop and went straight to a newsagent and stared at the grainy photograph of a much younger Merlin and a plain looking boy who was apparently the late William Cooper. William was smiling with one arm slung around Merlin's shoulders and it was Merlin who looked as though he didn't want the physical contact, not the other. Arthur bought a copy and stood in the street to read it, his heart in his throat.

According to the article, the Coopers had taken Merlin in on a foster placement, something they did from the 'kindness of their hearts' because they wanted to help disadvantaged children, and Merlin had repaid them by deflowering their son—they had caught them in the act—and once Merlin had been removed from their care and sent elsewhere, William had been so ashamed of what he had done with Merlin that he had taken his own life. The article went on to say how their lives had been ruined and seeing Merlin on the television every week only reminded them how their son was no longer alive. Mr Cooper blamed Merlin for his subsequent divorce and for his own life falling apart to the extent that he had turned to drink.

The article also carried a picture of Merlin with Percival, and one of him with Arthur with the caption, _Emrys and his co-judge Arthur Pendragon are rumoured to be more than friends_.

Arthur fired off a quick apologetic text to his producer and shoved the newspaper into his backpack and headed back down into the tube station and back to his flat where he had left Merlin sleeping. Panic clawed at this chest, he had to get to Merlin before he someone else did.

He found Merlin freshly showered, dressed and sipping coffee at Arthur's kitchen table. He'd been up before Arthur that morning, had cooked him breakfast wearing nothing but an apron, happy and smiling, whilst Arthur had sat at that same table enjoying the view. It felt like another lifetime now.

When Arthur walked in Merlin's brows furrowed in confusion. "What happened to your meeting?" he asked, scanning Arthur's face and coming up with, "What's wrong?" God, but Arthur loved him, and he didn't want to be the one to be breaking the bad news.

Arthur pulled out a chair and sitting down, opened his bag and pulled out the newspaper, sliding it across the table to Merlin.

Merlin scanned the headline and paled. He pulled the paper upright and Arthur watched him reading the contents silently. Arthur's instinct was to reach out to him in some way and offer comfort, but he knew Merlin well enough to know that it wouldn't be appreciated. Merlin didn't like casual touches or comfort, at least not from Arthur. Lance seemed to be the only person who got away with anything like that with Merlin and even then, Merlin held himself back.

After a couple of minutes Merlin threw the paper onto the table and looked up to find Arthur staring at him. "Are you going to ask me if it's true?"

"I was hoping you would want to tell me about it, be it true or not," Arthur said, feeling something curl uncomfortably in his stomach as he sensed Merlin's withdrawal.

"It's true," Merlin said, voice devoid of emotion. "You know me, I love sex, have done since I first got a taste for it at fifteen. Will thought it was more than it was, said he loved me, couldn't take it when his dad kicked me out and I came to London." The scrape of his chair as he stood was deafening in the quiet of the room.

Merlin was going to run again.

Arthur had nothing to lose. "That's bullshit." He got to his feet.

Merlin froze. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Stop hiding from me, Merlin, please. You can trust me." Arthur took a step towards Merlin who held out a hand to fend him off. _In for a penny_, Arthur decided and said, "Merlin, I love you."

Merlin sneered. "That's what they _all_ say. You, Mordred, Percival, every sodding one of you." He gave an empty laugh. "None of you would say that if you really knew me."

"Merlin—"

Merlin flung a hand in the direction of the discarded newspaper. "Will 'knew' me," he said, voice cracking. "He befriended me when I went to live with his family. He was almost three years older than me—it doesn't mention that in that sodding article, does it, that I was fifteen at the time? Of course it doesn't. I looked up to him, confided in him the things that had happened to me in the other homes I'd been in before. He comforted me. _I never even saw it coming_. I was a stupid trusting _idiot_."

Arthur felt ice flow through him. "Never saw what coming?"

"Oh come on, surely you can guess. Such a cliché, aren't I? The poor foster kid, moved from home to home, touched up by the first 'dad', acting up in all the rest. I went to the Coopers with low expectations and—" A huge fat tear escaped and wound its way down Merlin's pale cheek and he wiped it angrily away. "Will… I didn't want to do it, I didn't feel that way about him, but he said that… he implied… I'd had a few drinks that first time and didn't want to get kicked out, I didn't want to have to move again. His parents were decent to me, I was starting to do well at school and… I let him. _I let him_. By the end, I was actually sort of enjoying it even though I never touched a drop of alcohol since that first night, yeah? It was only sex and he wasn't rough or anything. It was nothing. Until his parents found us."

Arthur thought that his heart might break into two. He reached out instinctively to Merlin but Merlin flinched away. In that moment he looked just like his fifteen year old self must've done, abused and betrayed by someone he'd trusted.

"Don't touch me!" Merlin snapped, taking a step back, eyes filling with tears that he blinked away. The colour had returned to his cheeks and they flushed now with anger. "I can't— I—" He turned around and strode into the hallway, unhooking his coat from its peg.

Arthur followed, feeling sick with the need to keep Merlin there with him where he would be safe. It was a battle he didn't think he was going to win. "Stay, Merlin, please," he said, aiming for calm.

Merlin paused, hand on the door. He turned and looked at Arthur before wordlessly turning away again and opening the door. He slipped outside and closed the door behind him.

Arthur did not follow.

He retreated back into the living room, located his mobile and called Lance.

::::

The only reason Merlin went to Bath to film the final episode was because he didn't want to let Lance down. But the thought of his face being broadcasted to millions after the media storm that had followed him around all week made him want to get on the first plane out of England and never come back.

If Wednesday hadn't been bad enough, Thursday's paper had been worse. Mrs Cooper had had her say on the matter, disputed her ex-husband's version and claimed that Will had broken down and confessed the truth to her after Merlin had left. She felt terrible for what had happened to Merlin, she'd said, a sad faced photograph to illustrate just _how_ sad was set into the article, but as her step-son was dead she hadn't seen any point informing anyone of what he had really done to Merlin. Of course, she'd said, with her ex-husband selling his story in this manner she had no choice but to speak up, she simply hadn't been able to keep quiet about it any longer.

Now everyone knew his darkest secret.

"Have you spoken to Arthur since Wednesday?" Lance asked as they climbed into the car to go and pick up Mithian on Friday morning, Merlin in the back seat as usual. Lance had been pacing the kitchen on Wednesday morning when Merlin had arrived back at the flat having had a worried phone call from Arthur. Merlin hadn't headed straight home but had spent a couple of hours staring at the London skyline from Primrose Hill wondering what he had done wrong to make this his life, trying not to relive everything again and again in his head. Feeling like _nothing_ again.

Merlin shook his head. Lance was watching him in the rear view mirror. Arthur hadn't tried to call him, probably trying to give Merlin some 'space'. Merlin was grateful for it. "I'm going to talk to him later." He was not looking forward to it. "After the meeting," he clarified as he buckled up his seatbelt.

Lance didn't say anything, just pulled the car into the traffic and headed towards Mithian's.

"I wish you wouldn't worry so much," Merlin said, staring straight ahead and worrying his lip.

"Someone has to worry about you," Lance replied, glaring at Merlin in the rear view mirror. "I've been worrying about you for the past six years and I don't think that's going to change any time soon, so shut up and have a kip or something as you've been awake half the night."

Merlin narrowed his gaze on the back of Lance's head for a few seconds before sighing and closing his eyes. "Yes boss," he whispered. He _did_ feel tired, exhausted in fact, and he didn't want Lance to be worrying about him, at least not any more than he already did. God, but he gave Lance a hard time sometimes, tested him, and Lance still put up with him. Merlin often felt as though it was all take take take on his part and Lance got nothing in return other than paps outside of his flat and someone to watch telly with when Merlin was home. "Maybe it's time I moved out so you didn't have to worry all the time," he suggested sleepily as they pulled up in front of Mithian's.

Merlin heard Mithian getting into the passenger seat as Lance replied, "Yeah, you living somewhere else is _really_ going to make me stop worrying, you div."

"Who's moving? Merlin?" Mithian's voice floated into the backseat. Merlin wanted to give her an answer but sleep was pulling him under.

"No, he's not," Lance said firmly, sounding worried. He restarted the engine and pulled away. "Merlin and I, we're family and family stick together."

"You're not actually related though are you?"

"Blood doesn't dictate who I can and can't care for," Lance said with a hint of defiance, as though someone had once dared to tell him otherwise.

"You're a 'modern family' then," Mithian said wistfully. "Sounds like a good thing to me."

Despite his desire to hear the rest of the conversation, Merlin lost the battle with sleep and when he woke up, they were crawling down the long driveway that led to the hotel and Lance and Mithian were talking quietly in the front seat. Merlin stared out of the car window watching the scenery passing him by. It was still blazing sunshine outside, the sun high in the sky, the sort of day that Merlin had dreaded back in his homeless days what felt like a lifetime ago when there was nowhere to shelter, before Lance.

"What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. The car pulled into the car park and Lance switched off the engine.

"Sleeping beauty wakens," Lance said fondly at the same time as Mithian said, "About noon."

"Well I've been shite company so far today," Merlin said, his brain reminding him of the conversation he'd heard before he'd fallen asleep. _Merlin and I, we're family_.

"You always are," Mithian replied, unbuckling and turning to wink at him before sobering and asking, "How are you feeling?"

Merlin glanced at Lance who was watching him with concern and felt a curl of something so unfamiliar and warm unfurl inside him that it nearly knocked him sideways. Quickly he turned his attention back to Mithian and smiled. "I've been better, but I'll survive." He always had hadn't he? He looked back at Lance. "Can I have a quick word?"

Mithian took the hint with good grace and climbed out of the car, popped the boot for her bag and then she was gone.

"Not in here," Merlin said and opened the door. "Let's take a walk."

Lance followed him and they made for one of the many footpaths that criss-crossed the hotel grounds. Within only a few metres they were in the centre of a small wooded copse, sunlight falling through the trees and dappling the ground with dancing beams of light.

"Merlin, you're worrying me again," Lance said when Merlin drew to a halt then, "Oooomph," as Merlin threw his arms around him and hugged him.

God it felt good, the hugging. Like it had when his mum had done so all those years before their lives fell apart. Will had used to hug Merlin all the time before it all changed and Merlin had been so needy for affection that he'd welcomed it, encouraged it even. Then later Will would hug him whisper in his ear what he wanted to do to Merlin, that he loved him and never wanted to be apart from him. He'd cuddle him after they had sex, Merlin a prisoner in his unwelcome embrace. Merlin hadn't let anyone hug him since. Hold his hand, yes, kiss him, suck him, be fucked by him, yes yes yes. Sex was different. Even when he hadn't wanted to, his body had betrayed him and he had sent his mind to another place and ended up enjoying it when Will had fucked him.

Will hadn't been his first which was one saving grace. There had been a boy at school during one of his short-lived foster placements and Merlin had enjoyed that, knew sex could be good. Those few times with Henry had been happy memories he had clung to.

"Merlin—" Lance sounded amused.

Merlin loved Lance so much. So so much. Lance was one of the two people he loved in this world. The other person was Arthur. Damn. _The other person was Arthur_.

Fuck. Of course. _Of Course_. He'd spent so long holding people at arm's length, not letting them get into his head even if he let them use his body, let himself use theirs'. Arthur had crept in under the radar. If he was honest he'd first realised Arthur was different after their first time together and later, when Merlin had let Arthur fuck _him_ before falling asleep beside him…that had been when he'd run.

"I love Arthur," Merlin blurted with something resembling a hysterical giggle following. "I mean, I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me, as a brother I mean. I heard what you said in the car and I wanted to tell you that I feel the same. I just didn't know it. I just— I— God, I'm in love with Arthur. If this is what love is supposed to be like." He pulled back and looked at Lance who was beaming from ear to ear.

"Go find him then," Lance said, grinning from ear to ear. "Tell him and put him out of his misery."

Could he do it? Merlin had treated Arthur appallingly. Not just Arthur but he'd let things go on too long with Percival, used him to hide behind, led him on even when he'd known Percival wanted more. Merlin was very much afraid he wasn't a nice person at all; he was a self-absorbed bastard who only looked out for himself. That wasn't who he wanted to be, he wanted to be a better person but what if it was too late?

Merlin stepped back, dropping his arms to his sides. "I can't—"

"Merlin, last week you gave me some good advice when you asked if I could imagine life without Gwen. You said it was simple and it is. I plan to ask that girl to marry me once the show is over, I don't see the point in wasting time. Just listen to your own advice. Don't let him go. He loves you."

Arthur had said it to him the other day and Merlin had all but thrown it back at him. He could only hope that Arthur would give him another chance.

"You're right, as always."

Lance smiled and hugged Merlin again. "Always am," he teased, letting Merlin go with a gentle shrug. "Don't worry about being late for the meeting. Arthur's more important."

Merlin nodded. Arthur was probably already here, he was nearly always early because he hated being late more than wasting time being there sooner than he needed. He watched Lance retreat back towards the hotel, Merlin probably already forgotten in the excitement of seeing Gwen soon. Should he go and look for Arthur now or wait until tonight? Would he lose his nerve if he waited?

Merlin turned and walked in the opposite direction to Lance, turning everything over and over in his mind. No, he'd have to find Arthur right away because he was talking himself out of it already and then where would that leave him? The edge of the copse was ahead of him, the trees thinning as the footpath ahead gave way to lawn and beyond it the lake, and as Merlin emerged back into the midday sun he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Arthur lying beneath the same tree he'd found him under the first time he'd kissed him. It was like someone had answered his prayers.

He approached quietly, leaning into the tree beside Arthur to stare down at him as he had the last time. Arthur's eyes were closed, his red t-shirt—Merlin's favourite colour on Arthur—had inched up to reveal an inch of tanned skin. He looked peaceful and Merlin was about to disturb that peace with his presence.

"Arthur," he said in a whisper. He crouched down, his back resting against the tree as he watched Arthur open his eyes and meet Merlin's stare. He blinked twice, clearing away the sleepy confusion and propped himself up on his elbows.

Blue eyes scanned Merlin from head to toe and upon finding him whole with no visible signs of trauma Arthur seemed to relax. "Merlin," he greeted eventually, his expression guarded. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Fine. Thanks. How're you?" Arthur's eyes narrowed so Merlin hastened ahead with, "Can we talk?"

::::

Arthur pushed himself up to a sitting position. He gestured for Merlin to sit beside him and when he did, his long legs stretched out in front of him, Arthur said, "OK, talk."

He steeled himself for what he'd been expecting since Merlin had left his house the other morning. Another—how many was it now anyway?—rejection from Merlin. For the last time, because Arthur wasn't going back for more another time after this; his pride would not withstand any further battering.

He certainly wasn't expecting Merlin to say, "I love you, Arthur," and it was a few moments before the words sank in. He turned to look at Merlin. Merlin, who was chewing his lip and watching Arthur closely, before he said, "I know I've fucked up, treated you like shit and I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to steer well clear of me now, I—"

"No!" Arthur said embarrassingly quickly. He reached for Merlin's hand. "I've been completely gone for you since the first day we met and I don't see that ever changing." It was pathetic really how hard and how fast he'd fallen for Merlin.

"I'm a mess," Merlin said even as his hand tightened its grip on Arthur's. Three words that conveyed so much pain and fuck knew what else. "I don't even know if I'm ready to be anyone's boyfriend and I don't want to fuck this up."

"I can be a patient man," Arthur said, edging closer to Merlin. Merlin dropped his head on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur wrapped his arm around him and rested his own head on Merlin's.

They stayed there, silently comforting the other, until the alarm Arthur had set himself on his watch sounded that it was time for the production meeting. Hand in hand, they walked back to the hotel and for the first time since Merlin had first walked out on him last year, Arthur felt happy.

::::

The Bake Off's Final Saturday was tense. Last week, Cenred had surprised them all by winning star baker with perfectly golden crunchy biscuits before winning the Technical Challenge and producing a show stopper that, despite the quality of the other entrants, blew everyone else out of the water and it had been Edwin who'd been sent home. There had been no choice as Cenred was by far the best baker of the weekend and Edwin had slipped up slightly with his fondant. Thus the final that Merlin had thought since about half way through the series that would probably consist of Gwen, Edwin and either Tristan or George was not as he had imagined.

Cenred had gained legions of fans since the series began. They called themselves 'Cen's Army' and while the show's security often had had to escort overenthusiastic fans, who had turned up to see if they could catch sight of any of the competitors and 'stars', off the premises, there had been a notable invasion of Cenred's fans to the extent that the producers had brought in extra security for this weekend. Privately, Merlin thought that it was the leather trousers—seriously, who wore leather trousers to _bake_ in?—and the hair. Cenred liked to tie his hair back to bake and then once finished for the day he would let it loose and shake it to his shoulders like he was in a shampoo advert. Everyone knew it drove Gwaine crazy with envy, not that Gwaine would ever admit it.

An article appeared in the Sport, penned by Edwin Green, claiming that behind the scenes at the Bake Off was just one long orgy. When they'd been told about it by one of the crew, Mithian said, "He bloody wishes." Everyone had laughed and that had been the end of it, but Arthur told Merlin he suspected that that was why Edwin had been sniffing around Merlin, looking for a story in case he didn't make it to the end.

It had been a long morning. They had been up early and there had been technical issues with the cameras that had taken an age to resolve and once everything was working again, they had lost over an hour. That had shortened the lunch break and now, finally, the final three were about to embark on their last Technical Challenge and Merlin could retreat into the judges kitchen with Arthur.

The door closed behind them and they stopped to regard one another before Arthur said, "Come on," and led Merlin over to the sofa. Arthur lay down on his side and patted the cushion in front of him. Merlin grinned and lay down in front of him. Arthur wrapped his arm around him and pulled him close. Merlin sighed in contentment and closed his eyes.

He had woken up in the same position that morning in Arthur's bed. They had talked until the early hours, really really talked, Merlin telling Arthur everything—his anger towards himself for letting _stuff_ happen to him. About his mum, about what had happened to him at his first foster placement, about the other placements, about Henry, Will's fondness for tying Merlin to his bed and how after that he'd never let another man fuck him until Arthur, the thing that had happened with Kanen, how Lance had come into his life... He'd been scared that after all of that, Arthur wouldn't want him anymore. He was so fucked up at times that he wondered what there was about him that Arthur could have fallen in love with. He'd said as much to Arthur.

_Your smile, your kindness, your patience, the way you always say what you think, the way you never back down, you don't care who my father is, you're not scared to insult me…the way it feels when I kiss you, like nothing else on earth, the look on your face when you come, the intensity of your eyes when you look at me and don't think I've noticed. The way you dance when you're baking and you think no one is looking._

They hadn't had sex last night. When they'd stopped talking they had simply curled up together like they were now and slept, barely moving, like that all night.

It was Lance who came to fetch them a couple of hours later, waking them with a slight cough. Merlin opened one eye to find Lance had a raised eyebrow and Merlin realised that this was the first Lance knew about how Merlin's quest to find Arthur the previous day had gone. Behind him Arthur stirred, his head popping up behind Merlin's. Lance grinned at him.

"Lance," Arthur said, sleepily.

"I'll send Helen in to sort you two out," Lance said, backing away. Then, stopping, "I'm happy you seem to have reconciled your differences, and I never thought I would ever have cause to parrot this cliché, but, Arthur, if you hurt him you'll have me to deal with." He turned and left the room.

Merlin couldn't help the snort of laughter that broke free. He swung his legs to the floor and looked down at Arthur who was staring at the door Lance had just gone through thoughtfully. He looked up at Merlin and said with a twist of his lips, "I'd be jealous of him if he wasn't so bloody nice… and straight."

"You don't ever need to be jealous of Lance, not over me anyway." Merlin had considered telling Arthur about Lance and Gwen but decided that it wasn't his secret to divulge. At the very least, it could wait until after the series had ended.

Helen bustled in then, waving her hairbrush at them both like it was a dangerous weapon and within minutes they were back in the studio tasting caramel and praline croquembouche, one of Arthur's recipes, and pronouncing Cenred's the winner, closely followed by Tristan's with Gwen's in third place. The final day was going to be very close. Merlin still couldn't call it.

The Bake Off didn't have a wrap party on the last night this time, instead the crew, presenters, remaining contestants and their supporting family members if they wished to join in, went en masse into Bath for an Italian. Hence it was late when they arrived back, everyone's bellies full of pizza and beer, Merlin and Arthur in a taxi with Gwaine and Mithian.

Mithian glanced at their entwined hands and said, "So you two—?"

Arthur's hand tightened around Merlin's. "Yes. Us two."

Mithian beamed and Gwaine rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you two sorted things out," he said jovially. "You're good for each other."

They went to Arthur's room again and Merlin turned to Arthur as soon as the door closed behind them and said, taking his hand and saying almost shyly, "I need you."

"Just tell me what you need and I'll give it to you," Arthur promised, drawing Merlin close so he could kiss him.

Merlin responded with a newfound gentleness that came from the certainty that he didn't need to rush to the goal anymore, that he had all the time in the world to explore Arthur. With one palm flat over Arthur's heart he kissed him back. From there it was slow, although not without passion. Merlin removed Arthur's clothing piece by piece then stepped back to shed his own. When they were both naked he stepped close, relishing in the stiffness of Arthur's cock as it rose from between this thighs and the sound of his breathing, heavy and barely controlled.

Merlin dropped to his knees and took Arthur's cock into his mouth, one hand curving around the swell of a buttock and the other questing for gold behind his sac. Flicking his gaze upwards he found Arthur staring down at him with lust fuelled eyes as Merlin traced the circle of his hole with a tender finger. "Gonna fuck you," Merlin stated, probably unnecessarily, pulling his hand back and reaching for the lube that was just within reach on the bedside cabinet. "Gonna take you apart."

Arthur's only reply was a barely constrained groan. Merlin grinned and got to work.

::::

Finding Arthur and Merlin entwined together on the sofa quelled the concerns that Lance had about Merlin getting cold feet about talking to Arthur. The way Arthur acted with Merlin was reassuring but Lance hadn't been able to resist giving him the 'hurt him I'll hurt you' and he'd rather enjoyed it. He felt sorry for any future daughters he and Gwen might have together if he could be that protective about Merlin.

He and Gwen were taking things slowly, if knowing without a shadow of a doubt that she was his soulmate could be classed as taking it slow. They were waiting for the show to wrap and Gwen had to concentrate on her baking anyway. Once it was over Lance was going to take Gwen on a proper date, expensive restaurant, fine wine, the lot. He'd told Merlin wanted to ask Gwen to marry him and until he'd spoken those words he hadn't even known that that was where it was headed. A man couldn't propose on the first date though, could he? Perhaps the second or third? Either way, it was happening.

He could picture the wedding. It wouldn't be lavish, he already knew Gwen wouldn't want that, just close friends as he didn't have any family of his own left and Gwen's father to give her away. Merlin would be his best man of course and both he and Arthur could bake the cake. Then they'd wait a year or two before starting a family, two daughters first then a son for the third.

Lance didn't tell anyone this vision. Merlin would tease him for being a girl and of course he couldn't tell Gwen because he was yet to propose. The thing was, Lance surprised himself because he hadn't known he was that much of a sap. He'd been with Sefa for years and they'd got engaged in an entirely practical manner on her twenty-first birthday and then stayed engaged. Lance hadn't seen hearts and flowers or felt any urgency to make the wedding happen. He'd been happy with Sefa, and he hated that he'd hurt her, but with Gwen he wanted it all and he wanted it now and he'd never known that that was possible.

The night he'd told Sefa he'd met someone else, they'd cried together all night. She'd been upset and angry, yes, and they'd both been sad, but they hadn't parted on bad terms in the end, and Lance was grateful for that. Since then she had emailed Merlin—she always did have a soft spot for him—_tell Lance that I'm doing okay and the pilot went well so they've commissioned twelve episodes._

Lance had met Gwen's brother, Elyan, that night at the party and struggled to keep a straight face when he'd pulled him to one side and said, "Hurt her and I'll find you." They would get on well, then.

Arthur and Merlin had held hands the whole party and no one was surprised. "It took you both long enough," Helen jeered to a chorus of, "Finally," and "Hear hear."

::::

Cenred's run of good luck came to an end on the final Sunday with his Showstopper, a passion fruit and lime opera cake, when the top layer began to slide off in almost comical slow motion, landing with a final despondent plop on the counter. Cenred's expression was one of such pure astonishment that Arthur felt sorry for him. Merlin, however, was less sympathetic, "I don't think the fat lady is going to be singing for you today," he said and Gwaine chuckled quietly behind him before hiding behind a cough.

Tristan's chocolate, almond praline and saffron opera cake and Gwen's banoffee opera cake were both perfect in both taste and presentation. It was going to be incredibly tight to choose between them.

"This is the toughest one yet," Arthur said when he and Merlin were locked away in their kitchen, cameras trained on them, trying to decide who would be crowned the winner. "Would you agree that Cenred has blown it?"

Merlin's expression was thoughtful as he said, "To be fair to him though, his tasted divine. It was just pure bad luck that the jelly hadn't set as well as it should, which will be a timing thing, that's all."

"So he's still in the running would you say?" Arthur prompted, enjoying the way Merlin started to chew his lip.

"Despite what I said to Cenred, I wouldn't like to rule him out because of that one mistake and I'm not just saying that because I have him in the sweepstake!"

"Alright, well, there was little to choose between all of their signature dishes," Arthur reasoned. "If I had to pick a favourite it'd be Gwen's, but that would be because of the stilton yesterday."

"Yeah, not so fond of the stilton, but the non-cheesy canapés she made were lovely." Merlin sighed and rubbed his face. "Is there an actual tea in that teapot?" he asked, pointing at the blue polka dot tea set that adorned the middle of the table.

There wasn't, but tea was duly made by one of the runners and discussions continued for nearly forty-five minutes. Never let it be said that they didn't take their role as judges very seriously. At least now they had a winner.

They all trailed back into the main studio where Mithian would deliver the good news after Gwaine's spiel about the competition being tough and so on. Mithian's delivery of the result had the obligatory overlong pause before announcing the winner. "The winner of the Great British Bake Off is…Gwen Smith!"

Gwen squealed excitedly as the faces of the two men beside her fell before they schooled their features and moved to congratulate her. When it had calmed down Merlin said, "It was very close between all three of you in the end, even you Cenred." Merlin smiled at Cenred consolingly. "We didn't rule you out because of what happened, despite what I said, but when we looked back over the last few weeks work, Gwen had the edge over both of you gentlemen. You can be very proud of what you have achieved and all of you are very talented bakers."

After that, everything wound down without losing the air of celebration. The contestants had to give pieces to camera for the last time, as did Merlin and Arthur. Mithian was bouncing around with undisguised glee that she'd won the crew sweepstake when Gwen was victorious, resulting in flinging her arms around the neck of Gwen's brother Elyan who, along with her father, had come to support her for the final and planting a kiss on his surprised lips.

Once the last pieces to camera had been filmed they were then free to leave. They would return to the set on Thursday for a week to film four masterclass shows where both Arthur and Merlin would demonstrate what they would do in the shoes of the contestants. Despite that, it was the end of the show, and that always fell rather flat for Arthur.

"Want a lift back to London?" Arthur said, feeling suddenly vulnerable. The end of the show had been the end of their relationship this time last year and that had been the start of a year of misery for Arthur.

"I'm counting on it," Merlin said, leaning into Arthur's space and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Just let me tell Lance and say bye to Gwaine and Mith."

Merlin bounced away, the spring in his step something Arthur had never noticed was missing before. Arthur watched him talking to Lance and Gwaine, the three of them laughing companionably and decided there and then that he'd do everything in his power to make Merlin happy. It made him sick to the stomach to think about what Merlin had been through in the past, what that bastard Will had done to him. As far as Arthur was concerned Will was lucky he was dead. Arthur felt privileged that Merlin had finally decided to trust him even if it had been a year and a fuck ton of heartache for Arthur along the way, being without Merlin, seeing him with someone else. He could forgive all of that and put that behind him and embrace the future as long as that future had Merlin in it.

Just then his phone rang, a picture of Morgana flashing up before he swiped to answer. "Is there anything you want to tell me?" she said without preamble.

"Um—"

"I have to read about it on the Mail Online," Morgana groused. "You and Merlin are reconciled."

"How did you even know there was reconciling needed? No, don't answer that." Morgana had eyes everywhere and he should know better than to ask how. Arthur waved Rowena over as she was passing and hissed, "Can I borrow your phone?"

Rowena handed over her Galaxy phone and said with a wink, "The page is already loaded," and continued on her path towards wherever she had been going.

Arthur stared down at the screen that was showing the Mail Online with a picture of Arthur and Merlin in the restaurant last night, Arthur stealing a kiss from Merlin as they walked behind everyone else as they left. The headline read: 'Is love cooking in the Bake Off kitchen?' and beneath it was a short speculative article suggesting that Arthur and Merlin had become an item and suggesting that Arthur could be the one to stick by Merlin now that his past was an open book. It was actually, for the Daily Mail, rather tame. Arthur could only assume that after the misreporting of what had happened to Merlin in foster care, they were treading carefully.

Rowena reappeared and Arthur handed her phone back and said, "We look good together, don't we?"

Rowena regarded him solemnly for a moment then said, "You look happy."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summer 2016**

"Now, that's a look that suits him wouldn't you agree?" Morgana appeared beside Merlin where he was watching Arthur with her son, eighteen month old Matteo, the toddler giggling in glee and kicking his legs as his uncle held him up in the air before and made aeroplane noises. The expression on Arthur's face when looked at the little boy was one of pure adoration.

Merlin swallowed back the lump in his throat. "It certainly is a good look on him." Merlin smiled fondly and added, "My godson is the cutest kid ever."

"You won't get any argument from me on that score," Morgana said without taking her eyes off her son.

As they watched, Gwaine appeared at Arthur's side and Arthur handed him his son and immediately scanned the sun drenched garden for Merlin, breaking into a smile when he found him. He picked his way through the gathered guests until he reached them and slung an arm around Merlin's shoulder, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Gwaine had proved himself a devoted father from day one and Arthur's father, Uther, had melted at the sight of his baby grandson, and his and Morgana's rocky relationship had changed its path after that.

Merlin leant into Arthur, relaxed and happier than he'd ever been. He'd been so scathing of others who claimed they'd found love, who swore blind that the person they were with were their soulmate, that he had failed to see what was right in front of him from the instant he had walked into that stuffy production meeting three years before. He'd been afraid of the feelings Arthur had roused in him. He'd nearly fucked it all up for good and if Arthur hadn't given him a second chance, well, Merlin didn't like to think about that if he could help it.

The last couple of years hadn't been easy. Merlin had been assuaged with doubt over and over again in those early weeks, struggling to comprehend that Arthur really did love him, that it was more than sex for him. Arthur had suggested Merlin go for counselling, to talk to someone neutral about his past, but Merlin couldn't do it. He'd told Arthur everything and Lance knew most of it, Merlin didn't want to go over it again and again. He wanted to put the past behind him. He'd probably never imbibe an alcoholic drink again or let Arthur tie him to the bed, but those were small things, he was healed… was healing. He'd moved into Arthur's place three months in as he'd been spending nearly all his time there anyway, and now they were talking of selling it to get somewhere nearer to Lance's, somewhere that would be 'theirs'.

The sixth series of the Bake Off had wrapped a fortnight before and Merlin and Arthur were about to embark on filming a new venture together. Gwaine's chat show had been a smash to the extent that Gwaine had not returned for the fifth series of Bake Off where he had been replaced with, by public demand, Cenred Cox. Merlin and Arthur had made a joint appearance on the first episode of 'tonight with Gwaine' and officially outed themselves as a couple and Arthur had said, "We had a rough start but anything worthwhile is worth working for," and Twitter and Tumblr had exploded.

When Merlin had overheard Mithian and Lance talking in the car that day, when Mithian had said that he and Lance were a 'modern family' she couldn't have known then that she was scraping the top of the iceberg. In the space of only one year, the family had expanded: Lance and Gwen were married, Gwen's brother Elyan and Mithian became inseparable, Morgana and Gwaine had become parents despite Morgana remaining resolutely single, and Gwaine had fallen hard for Arthur's ex-fiancé, Elena who was keeping him on his toes. Morgana's fierce looking half-sister on her mother's side, Morgause, had returned from several years in Hong Kong and taken one look at Cenred when she'd visited the Bake Off set a few weeks ago and decided she wanted him. The poor bloke didn't stand a chance and now found himself being referred to as 'Unc Cen' by Matteo and he didn't even seem to mind. Merlin's new business venture with Freya was going well as was Freya's and Leon's relationship of nearly four months.

Sometimes, when they were all together in one place, Merlin felt as though his life had become an episode of 'Friends', where everyone ends up paired off with each other and nobody thinks it's weird.

"I'm just going to go and cuddle my son and leave you two alone," Morgana said loudly and both Merlin and Arthur, staring at one another now, both replied, "Mmmmhm," without turning to look at her and Morgana rolled her eyes and melted away.

"Speaking of being left alone," Arthur said, eyes boring into Merlin's. "Do you think anyone would notice if we—"

"Probably," Merlin said, taking Arthur's hand. "But it's expected of us."

They slipped away, rounding on one another the moment the bedroom door closed behind them. Clothes were hastily removed and despite it having been two years now, their need for each other hadn't faded but had become more acute. The bed was an old four poster but they didn't make it that far. Merlin braced himself against the nearest post, looking at Arthur over his shoulder as Arthur parted Merlin's cheeks and buried his face between them.

-o-

Later, when they'd returned to the party, they heard Gwaine emit a loud 'whoop' and say, "Yes, I won the sweepstake!"

Mithian pulled her phone out of her bag and after a couple of taps let out a laugh. "He's right, the Mail Online scooped you first." She held the phone up for them to see and there, above a picture of Arthur and Merlin holding hands and staring into one another's eyes as though the rest of the world was just an annoyance, read the headline, 'The Great British Gay Wedding'.

"That's original," Arthur huffed, squeezing Merlin's hand.

"That's the truth though," Merlin said, feeling like the luckiest man alive. There had been a time when he'd have laughed someone out of the room if they'd even hinted that he would fall in love and get married, but here he was, married to the man he loved. Life would never get better than this.


End file.
